Composer Goran Bregović may be best known for his wild, rollicking scores for the films of Emir Kusturica-especially 1988's Time of the Gypsies and 1995's Underground which helped introduce Western audiences to the hyperkinetic brass band music of the Balkans. But before Bregovic was a composer and bandleader, he was a rock star in the former communist Yugoslavia, spending the '70s & '80s as leader of influential Yugo prog-rock outfit Bijelo Dugme ("White Button"). When war engulfed his hometown of Sarajevo in 1992, Bregović-who was of mixed Serbian and Croatian heritage-headed to exile in Paris, where he made his international reputation as a visionary film composer and arranger.

His work has been heard in dozens and dozens of films and he's composed for such adventurous international pop stars as punk godfather Iggy Pop and Cape Verdean diva Cesaria Evora. His music even provided the soundtrack for much of 2006's gripping social documentary Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan.

But Bregović never got over the itch to play his music live, and since 1998 he's been at the helm of his Weddings and Funerals Orchestra, an adaptable beast that can swell from 10 to nearly 40 members according to Bregović's whims - and which encompasses everything from rock guitars and laptops to traditional Serbian brass instrumentation, string quartets, bagpipes, choral groups and whatever else suits the occasion. With this small army at his disposal Bregović has played festivals and concerts all over the world.

These days Bregović has his sights set on conquering the U.S., with his first Stateside release, a live, two-CD project called Alkohol, and a ten city North American tour that kicks off in June of 2008. Nat Geo Music recently caught up with the peripatetic Bregović by phone at his home in Sarajevo on the eve of his tour...

Nat Geo Music: So tell me about Alkohol... I understand that it was recorded live at a festival in Serbia?

Goran Bregovic: That's right. It was recorded in 2007 at the Guča festival in Serbia, which is a massive festival that happens every August. It's a very small town of maybe twenty thousand people that suddenly grows to one hundred fifty thousand people overnight. It's quite mad. Three days of brass band music, lots of grilled meat and cabbage, and course alcohol, alcohol, alcohol... [laughs]

Hence the name of the record?

Exactly. It's held at the end of August and it's very hot, and people drink like crazy.
Guča is a different kind of festival. The musicianship is truly incredible, but there are no big stages, no big pop stars. Most of the music happens in tents. It's a very crazy, festival, too. Very old school - if you like the musicians, you tip them right on the spot.

Had you played the festival before?

No, it was the first time. I didn't expect to make this record. It kind of happened accidentally. I got invited to the festival and I don't get a chance to play at home very often, since I'm an old-fashioned, traveling musician [laughs]. So it was a lot of fun to play there. I decided to do something different for the festival, to play old songs from my rock and roll days - but with my current band.

Guča is very traditional, and your band isn't. How did that go over?

The audiences loved it... after all, here in the Balkans, all the music is drinking music anyway, even rock and roll. We don't have a classical music tradition. We have a drinking tradition, so the audience there knew what to do.

Alkohol is actually divided into two albums, Champagne and Sljivovica? What that's all about?

Right. The first one, Sljivovica was just released this spring and Champagnewill come out later this year. Sljivovica is named after our national drink [plum brandy], and it's more of a traditional, down-home record - it's for drinking and dancing. It's infected with the spirit - and spirits - of Guča. [laughs]. Champage is a little more complex and ambitious, with strings and a choir. It's for those sophisticated palates who can't handle the sljivovica.

As a drinking man, which do you prefer?

[laughs] Actually, it's in my contract that I must have alcohol onstage. But I don't really drink much champagne, to tell you the truth. In Serbia when you think of champagne, you think of the kind of criminals who have more money than good taste. I prefer sljivovica, but what I really prefer is good, Caribbean rum. I'm an internationalist. I don't believe in borders. [laughs]

Well your music has definitely skipped a few borders-Balkan-influenced brass bands seem to have popped up everywhere in the last decade. How do you feel about that?

It's surprising. I come from a small country, with a small musical culture, so seeing our music played around the world? it's hard to explain the feeling. On the other hand, I've met people who couldn't even find Bosnia or Serbia or Yugoslavia on a map, too...[laughs]

But last summer when I played Lincoln Center in New York, they greeted me with a brass band playing my music back to me, and I was like "where did you find all these Serbs in New York"? And then I found out that they were all Americans who learned to play my music and I couldn't believe it! It's good to see that brass is back!

Do you feel responsible for helping to popularize this music internationally?

[laughs] Should I take all the credit? I don't know if my ego is that big! But for someone like me, a composer from a small country, to know that I have fans all over the world, this is a really big thing.

You know, I was never on TV. My videos don't appear on MTV, and my music doesn't get played on pop radio. I make music in this kind of parallel world, outside of the popular media. It's a place where adults still listen to new music and seek it out. Maybe this is the new underground? [laughs]

Speaking of Underground...

[Groans] I knew I shouldn't have said that!

... how much of an impact do you think that had on popularizing Balkan brass music in the West?

Well, Underground was very cathartic. It felt very urgent and immediate, because we were making it while the war was taking place. It was like a story told in real time... and I think that's part of the appeal, and why it still stands up now. When you think about it, that's extraordinary, because most war films are made years after their wars have ended.

What was it like to work on a film about a war that was destroying your hometown while you were still working on it?

I had already lost everything I had on the first day of the war. Everything! So I became an exile in Paris, which is a traditional and respected European occupation. Luckily I had many more offers to work in films, so I worked quite a lot during the war, which was a kind of therapy, I think.

I'll tell you, film is a very strange animal. I don't take as much film work now, because I don't really need any more money. I still work projects that interest me, but I'm able to take my pick. For instance, I just finished working in Turkey on a film about the life of Ataturk, which is very interesting to me.

How do you balance your film career with your performing schedule?

It's not that hard, but I think what's really important for musicians to is to change our styles and challenge ourselves, so they don't spend our careers playing different variations on the same old song. So, working in different mediums is very good for me. My guitar sounds like a harp to me now, after working so long with brass bands. I can hear a lot of subtle tones that I used to take for granted.

You know, I did my first film work when I was just a rock and roll star, but now that I score films, I am entitled to call myself a "composer," which means that I get to wear very nice suits and attend very serious festivals and associate with a better class of criminal.