MUSIC WITHOUT SOCIAL LIFE THE GARMON’ PLAYER MIKHAIL SOROCHINSKY – A NON­REVIVALIST MUSICIAN IN SMOLENSK PROVINCE 
ULRICH MORGENSTERN 
Against the background of generally low music activity in rural Russia, the button accordion (garmon’) player Mikhail Sorochinsky from the Smolensk province (Smolenskaja oblast) lives an intensive yet solitary musical life. The paper presents Sorochinsky’s artistic development and his not always easy relation to his social and musical environment. Further, the historical background of solitary music-making is discussed as well as socially and musically meaningful emotions. Keywords: traditional music, Russia, performer-centered research, solitary music-making Glasbenik Mihail Soročinski iz okrožja Smolensk, ki igra na kromatično (gumbno) harmoniko (garmon’), živi zelo intenzivno, a tudi samotno glasbeno življenje, kar je v nasprotju z dejstvom, da je v ruralni skupnosti v Rusiji malo muziciranja. V članku sta predstavljena njegov umetniški razvoj in ne vedno enostavno razmerje z lastnim družbenim in glasbenim okoljem. Avtor razpravlja o zgodovinskem ozadju njegovega samohodnega muziciranja kot tudi o družbeno in glasbeno pomembnih čustvih. Ključne besede: ljudska glasba, Rusija, raziskava o izvajalcu, samohodniško muziciranje 
INTRODUCTION 
Ethnomusicologists largely deal with music as an integral part of processes which take place in face-to-face groups. This emphasis on small-scale social settings, which is without any doubt productive, leads to a somewhat biased idea of music as an exclusively social activity. Alan P. Merriam believed that “[m]usic sound cannot be produced except by people for other people” (Merriam 1964: 69). Indeed, much of musical practice around the world is closely interlinked with the immediate environment of the musicians or is directed toward broader social settings. In rural contexts, singers and musicians are engaged in organising events which are meaningful for the community, with a rather complex relationship to music-making in accordance with traditional genre systems. Classical and popular musi­cians try to reach broad audiences by performing in concert halls, distributing CDs and presenting their art in the media. Middle class revivalists, positioning themselves in political and aesthetical discourses, frequently use folk music to promote the idea of their intellectual agendas as coming “from below”. 
The understanding of music as social life (Turino 2008), which is seminal to ethno-musicology, stems on the one hand from multifarious field observations and on the other hand from the impact of social theory (and to some extend Marxist ideology) on the disci­pline. Numerous ethnomusicological studies have been able to show that in most different performance situations all of the participants of a social event are expected to take part in 
DOI: 10.3986/Traditio2018470203 TRADITIONES, 47/2, 2018, 33–65 
musical sound production in one or another way. Ernst Klusen1 and later Thomas Turino (2008) have offered theoretical models based on the opposition between participatory and presentatory performance. Strictly speaking, participatory music cannot be regarded as music in Merriam’s sense as it is not made for other people but for the performers themselves. 
Suprisingly, Merriam’s statement cited above was first questioned seriously only after some forty years when Andrew Killick (2006) proposed his path-breaking study on solitary music-making. As a counterpoint to influential concepts of participatory as well as presentatory performance he invented the term holicipation. It refers to situations when a musician does not take part in a social event, but as the only one involved in the perfor­mance situation expeiriences “the ‘whole’ of the musical event” (ibid.: 274). In Killick’s understanding, solitary music-making can appear to be a full-value aesthetical practice and not necessarily as “a substitute for something better” (ibid.: 273). Symptomatically, Killick, searching for sources of musical holicipation, was able to find more evidence in fiction and non-fiction literature and in film than in the few musicological studies that consider solitary forms of music-making. It is noteworthy, however, that Izaly Zemtsovsky (1984: 144) in his theory of performative communication gives space to the phenomenon of musical “self-communication” (samoobshchenie). Furthermore, theoretical folklorist Henry Glassie (1995: 402) presents striking examples for high-levelled solitary music-making in North Carolina. 
In the present article I would like to focus on some aspects of solitary music-making in Rusian traditional music as represented in recent fieldwork. It will also be shown that musical holicipation is not a recent phenomenon, but has occurred in Russian ethnography for at least the last 120 years—particularly, yet not exclusively, in the sphere of instrumental music-making. 
In the focus of the article is one individual musician. Therefore I would like to briefly consider, some theoretical aspects of performer-centered research and its long history in music anthropology.2 The performer-centered paradigm was developed in different national schools of theoretical folkloristics and folk music research, and ethnomusicology indepen­dently. The “Russian school” of epic studies in the 1860s was the starting point, followed by research Irish musicians and Anglo-American ballad singers. In the Interwar period Russian and Hungarian tale studies played a big part and caused a certain influence on US “applied folklore” since the 1960s. In the 1970s and 1980s, the Golden Age of European folk music Revival bi-musical ethnomusicologists wrote extensive ethnographies on their 
1 Klusen used different dichotomies referring to the degree of participation in performance situations: Immanenz vs. Emanenz (Klusen 1969: 43); see also his more elaborated model based on Innensteuerung (inner-directedness) vs. Außensteuerung (outer-directedness, cf. Klusen 1989: 179–183). 
2 I may refer the reader to a forthcoming publication of my recent paper “The Performer-centered Paradigm in Ethnomusicology and Folkloristics: 150 Years of History”, held September 19, 2015 in Limerick at the 31st European Seminar in Ethnomusicology Making a Difference: Music, Dance, and the Individual (ed. by Colin Quigley). For a short overview see also Morgenstern 2018: 17f. 
teachers. Only later “ethnomusicology of the individual” was declared as a new trend in mainstream ethnomusicology. From the very beginning the main focus of performer-centered research was on the following concepts and methods: • overcoming concepts of fixed pieces and collective ownership in favour of variability and individual creativity; 
• 
the performers’ biography, learning process, artistic methods; 

• 
traditional and individual aesthetic concepts; 

• 
performer typologies; 

• 
role models and the social role of individual performers; 

• 
performers’ interaction with audiences; 

• 
reflexive and applied ethnography. 


While most of these concepts will be present in this study, the typological and the applied approach, for different reasons, will be less considered. Variability, as one of the initial components of the performer-centered paradigm, is largely acknowledged in modern ethnomusicology. So theoretical explication of this fundamental principle of traditional music will not be repeated here. 
SOLITARY MUSIC-MAKING IN RUSSIAN ETHNOGRAPHY 
In her monograph on balalaika playing in the pre-war period, Kaori Yunoki-Oie (2004) singles out pubic and non-public performance situations. She emphasises not so much the aesthetical enjoyment of playing than its therapeutic function as a means of counteract­ing physical exhaustion and mental stress. In my own fieldwork on Russian traditional instrumental music I am frequently faced with the fact that musicians perform—at least in the last two or three decades—most of all for themselves. Playing the button accordion (garmon’, coll. also: garmoshka) or the balalaika, they may recall social events in the past when the villages had a regular and active musical life.3 It is important to notice, however, that according to historical sources, solitary music-making was also not unusual in those remote times. 
There is evidence from the late 18th century that the balalaika could be found in nearly every peasant household—as was later the case with the button accordion in Vologda prov­ince (Morgenstern 2007: 165 f.). The fact that there were many more musical instruments to hand in Russian villages than social events would require speaks well not only of their 
The mental actualization of a former functional context can work even more than 50 years later. In 1996 I recorded local tunes in Pskov province which were intended to stimulate young boys to take part in ritualized fights at parish fairs. When Aleksander Filippov (born in 1920 in Bol’shoe Zuevo, Ostrov rayon) listened to the recording of his “Gorbatogo”, he exclaimed “Oh, how our boys would have gone off [to look for a fight]!” (Morgenstern 2007: 165). 
deeply-rooted aesthetic function. It may be also understood as an indirect reference to solitary music-making. Some early direct evidence can be found in Aleksandr Famintsyn’s monograph on the Russian gusli (1890).4 The author refers to field observations by Pëtr Vasiliev, working with the gusli player (gusliar) Trofim Ananiev (b. 1794) from the village of Deeva gorka in the contemporary northern province (oblast’) of Pskov. The musician presents the performing process as a sort of elegical meditation: 
Trofim Ananiev was an amateur gusliar, not by profession; he never played at 
gatherings in public, only for himself at home. As far as one can understand from 
his words, he always improvised: ‘when you became sad, you may say: 
Oh, he who has not been beyond the Danube, 
does not know sorrow! 
And you start to ring [zvonit’], what you have on your soul …, and tears start 
flowing like a stream.’ These are his original words (Famintsyn 1890: 73). 
Trofim never played on the gusli as an accompaniment for songs (or bylini) or 
dance music” (ibid.: 74). 
In recent ethnography there is much evidence of young accordion players playing and singing for themselves when returning from a dancing event. Solitary balalaika playing, according to fieldwork by Yunoki-Oie (2004: 28) in Kostroma province, is typical for the present but could also have occurred in the pre-war period. Of particular interest is Svetlana Adonieva’s study on performance situations of the chastushka (2006).5 Emphasizing the significance of public chastushka singing as a means of gaining social prestige, Adonieva also considers the possibility of solitary performance: “One of the practices of performing chastushki is solitary lyrical meditation. Most often one can witness that at home the older people—men and women—softly play the garmon’ and sing chastushki ‘for themselves’” (ibid.: 38f.). It would be easy to complete Adonieva’s observations, originating from the Onega region, with evidence from elsewhere. Thus, in the village of Khotilitsy, Andreapol rayon (or raion, a governmental district), Tver’ province Tikhon Alekseevich Alekseev (1913–2001), a hard working director of the local kolkhoz, at least in the years 1966–1975, alongside occasional performances in the local cultural centre, reserved half an hour for playing his minorka accordion nearly every evening, softly singing short songs to the 
4 The Russian term gusli refers to different types of box zithers. Here it means a seven-string wing-zither (Baltic psaltery). 
5 Adonieva uses the term chastushka in a broad, philological sense, referring to any monostrophic quat­rain, based on a four-footed, four-lined trochee. An ethnomusicological concept, however, should also consider the emic terminology of the repertoire and musical characteristics, especially vocal rhythmi­zation and articulation of the verse (see: Morgenstern 2011). Understood this way, the chastushka is limited to quatrains with an sharp articulation of the rhythm, excluding lyrical verses sung in a more melismatic manner that are more typical for the monostrophic genre pod pesni (see below). 
local tune Skobaria just for himself.6 Another traditional setting for musical holicipation are shepherd’s tunes, played on flutes or clarinets for one’s own pleasure and lacking any communicative function. 
For contemporary musicians the solitary nature of their music-making is, to some extent, a result of a general decline in instrumental practice. This undeniable cultural gray-out began with Stalin’s collectivisation and the abolition of traditional performance situations such as spinning rooms, self-organised dancing events or parish fairs. It continued with the rural exodus of the 1960s, when the passport system brought an end to Soviet neo-serfdom, and with the introduction of radio and TV in the course of the electrification of private households in the same period. 
THE SOCIAL FRAMEWORK OF MUSIC-MAKING IN CONTEMPORARY RUSSIAN VILLAGES 
Today, the social framework of vocal and instrumental performance in Russian villages is provided by birthday parties, New Year celebrations, informal gatherings of friends and, only rarely, weddings (lacking special musical repertoire, be it vocal or instrumental). At official festivities and contests in large villages or rayon centres, ensembles of the more or less Soviet-style khudozhestvennaia samodeiatel’nost’ (amateur artistic activity) may take part. With the increasing prestige of traditional music in the last two decades, some of these ensembles try to include features of local repertoire. Active revival movements, however, are generally a domain of urban musical settings. 
One of the most important events of the cultural centres or so-called clubs, which are to some extent promoted by the state, is the disco on Saturday night as well as karaoke par­ties with Russian popular music, including pop arrangements of folk melodies. As a rule, contemporary dancing events do not include live music performance. One of the reasons for this is that cultural institutions have to cover the expenses for equipment, renovation and musical instruments themselves (basically by selling tickets for the disco to the local young people and to summer guests). So they can rarely provide live music such as the VIA (vokalno-instrumental’nyi ansambl’), i.e. Russian pop music ensembles of Soviet times, formerly fostered—and of course controlled—by the local cultural authorities. 
Singing is an indispensable part of private festivities, alongside eating, drinking, proposing toasts, telling jokes, funny stories and raising harmless erotic issues. The song repertoire includes standard russkie narodnye pesni (Russian folk songs)—as well-known songs and romances from the late 19th century are commonly called—, Soviet mass songs, especially those of wartime, contemporary popular melodies, including those from folk-like 
Fieldwork in April 2011. I am indebted to the granddaughter of the musician, Nina Viktorovna Mikhailova (b. 1959) for this information. 
TV shows, and sometimes pan-Russian chastushki. In male settings, blatnyie pesni (‘crook’ songs) and songs by Russian singer-songwriters such as Vladimir Vysotsky are popular as well. The waltz is a rather widespread couple dance. Chastushka tunes such as “Tsyganochka” or “Stradaniia”7 are usually performed in alternation with dance sequences—of course only if a garmon’ player takes part. Song texts with explicit sexual content or obscene vocabulary are generally avoided in the presence of children or women. An exception may be gatherings of adults in a very private context or weddings. 
One of the most striking features of contemporary Russian folk musical practice is the almost total extinction of local styles and repertoires. Today, nearly all local forms of polyphonic singing, wedding and seasonal songs are hardly more than a childhood memory of the middle-aged or even the older generation. In instrumental music the main genre pod pesni ([music] for songs; Morgenstern 2007: 194–255) has almost entirely vanished.8 This sophisticated repertoire was formerly linked to spinning rooms, parish fairs, recruits’ seeing-offs, and in some regions to rather serious male fights. In Russian tradition the genre is clearly distinguished from the traditional dance (pliaska) repertoire. Nowadays pod pesni tunes, along with the corresponding short songs in the metre of the chastushka, are only rarely performed by older musicians and singers—for instance on the request of fieldworkers. 
THE MUSICIAN 
Against this rather sad background, the garmon’ player Mikhail Leonidovich Sorochinsky from Smolensk province is an exceptional figure. It was not by chance that Anatoly Aleksandrovich Kozlov (b. 1951), another outstanding garmonist from the Dukhovshchina rayon, called my attention to his young fellow musician in 2005. 
Mikhail Sorochinsky was born in 1974 and grew up in the village of Kolpity in Belyi rayon in the south-west part of Tver’ province, near the border to Smolensk province. This area is sometimes called Tverskaia Smolenshchina, as many of its inhabitants feel closer to the former provincial centre Smolensk than to remote Tver’. 
Sorochinsky works in the small town of Ozërnyi in Dukhovshchina rayon as a fire fighter at the local gas power station (Smolenskaia GREZ). He also is engaged in agricul­tural work, beekeeping and other activities in his father’s village. Ozërnyi was founded 
7 In the provinces of Tver’, Smolensk and Pskov, Stradaniia (lit.: suffering) is the name of a chastushki formula with a harmonic progression 2/4 |IV IV|I I|V V|I I| sung and played in a rather sharply accentuated manner. In the South and in parts of Central Russia the term refers to more melodious short songs of a lyrical character. 
8 A cursory glace at Russian online communities of the last years, where professional and amateur fieldworkers use to present their videos, reveals that the vast majority of garmon’ and balalaika players who master local repertoires are of advanced age. The situation seems to be different in the Vologda province where numerous local musicians continue the tradition. 

Mikhail Sorochinsky, 2009. Photo: Igor’ Stesev. 
in 1974. The town has some 5860 inhabitants (2010), two secondary schools and, as well as Dukhovshchina, a church, a lot of small shops, and a restaurant at the edge of the town—and it has a cultural centre with an exceptionally dynamic and committed director. Aleksandr Babtenkov is a popular musician who does his best to promote cultural youth work. Some years ago he founded the Blagosvet, an ensemble for religious pop music. Many of the inhabitants of Ozërnyi work in the power station, while the men frequently take on seasonal jobs in Moscow and Tver’ as building workers or security guards (as is common in rural regions of Russia). Women usually work in the educational or health sectors or in the local administration. 
The first time I visited Mikhail Sorochinsky was in August 2009 during a field trip together with the journalist Igor’ Stesev and Danila Novikov, a revival musician from Saint Petersburg. Mikhail is a tall young man with a welcoming, sometimes slightly ironic smile and a charming Byelorussian accent.9 With Mikhail we had a pleasant evening in his well-equipped kitchen, eating soup, lots of home-made honey, and drinking samogon (home-made brandy).10 We listened to Misha’s highly virtuoso playing and to his most captivating stories and his very sensitive thoughts on music and life. Some days later we met Misha again in his father’s house in the village of Kotovo in Belyi rayon. 
9 In the early 20th century the local population were considered to be Smolensk Byelorussians. However, this does not affect their contemporary Russian identity. 
10 Being an exceptional hospital person, Mikhail likes to drink together with friends and guests on suit­able occasions. Like many other distinguished rural musicians—who very often are economically successful and socially respected members of their communities—Mikhail uses alcohol in modera­tion. It is clear that excessive drinking would be incompatible with his responsible job as a fire fighter (and as a beekeeper as well). 
Still in 2009, shortly after our fieldwork, the young ethnomusicologist Mikhail Shil’nov (Kharkov/Goteborg) visited Mikhail and later on, by my recommendation, the folklorist Elena Razumovskaia from Saint Petersburg managed to arrange Sorochinsky’s participation in a concert at the Petersburg Composers’ Union in November 2009 where the musician was met with overwhelming enthusiasm. 
My second visit in March 2011 was a part of a research project supported by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (MO 1085/7-1). It is devoted to the study of the individu­ality of the musician and to local repertoires in the Smolensk and Tver’ provinces. Again, Mikhail met me in his friendly way—however, our conversation was overshadowed by the fact that a young relative was hospitalised after a stroke. It goes without saying that in this situation I couldn’t even think about asking Mikhail to play. Neverthless we talked about music-making, including his personal style and repertoire, and occasionally Mikhail took the garmon’ to demonstrate some tunes of a solemn, modest character. Mikhail was ready to continue our consultations the next day, but the tragic death of his relative brought my plans to a temporary end. 
I was able to visit Mikhail a third time in August 2011. Immediately after my arrival in Ozërnyi he invited me to come to his house, where his sister, two middle-aged women from the neighbourhood, and Mariia Grigorievna Gugnina, a lady in her late seventies, were already there. For me it was a most impressive evening. We talked about different matters – problems of contemporary life, local history and the history of Russia. Mariia Grigorievna told me a lot about her experience of the German occupation. In our intimate conversation, reflections on serious issues alternated with funny stories and lots of jokes. 
Music also played a considerable part in that evening. The centre of attention was Mikhail as a garmonist and singer and Mariia Grigorievna. They sung numerous local pripevki.11 Occasionally Mariia Grigorievna danced to Mikhail’s music. Sometimes the younger women sang along, mostly when Mikhail played ballad-like waltz songs of the late 19th—early 20th century, telling tragic stories of love, jealousy and murder. Their performance was full of emotional contrasts. Lyrical moments alternated with extremely vivacious features. 
Sorochinsky plays the khromka unisonor button accordion—the most widespread musical instrument in rural Russia in the second half of the 20th century. He also plays the older bisonor venka. Regardless of its unisonor tuning (the same note when opening or closing the bellow) the khromka has a generally diatonic scale. The instrument Sorochinsky used in 2009 was made by special order; however, its provenance is unknown. It could have originated from a manufacturer in Tula, or also from a local master. In contrast to the usual mass-produced khromkas, Mikhail’s one has a strong and sharp sound. However, some bass keys are slightly out of tune, and one key (a1 on opening) lacks the fundamental pitch.12 
11 A type of monostrophic short song (see below). 
12 This key is used especially in the “Raskhodnaia” (Ex. 1, Video 3). The transcription shows the intended lower fourth, reconstructed by the parallel video recording (instead of the real fifth). In Video 8, when Sorochinsky plays a proper instrument, the lower fourth can be heard clearly. 

Mikhail Sorochinsky (m.) and his colleagues from the local gas power station (Smolenskaia GREZ), 2010. Photo: Mikhail Shil’nov. 
(Unfortunately, today it is rather hard to find an accordion master in Russian villages, as much of local production together with other forms of rural supplementary income were banned in the era of Stalin’s collectivisation.) After my first visit, Mikhail bought a new garmon’ from a local musician that was used during the recording session in August 2011 (Video 2, 8). 
Mikhail doesn’t remember exactly when he began to play the garmon’, but he already played at dances at the age of 14. Although his father Leonid Kuz’mich Sorochinsky is a garmonist as well, the young musician received more inspiration from his uncle Pëtr Kuz’mich Kupreshin (1926[?]–1997). Like many rural musicians, he emphasises the importance of oral/aural learning: “I learned to play it by ear. I don’t know a single note. Someone starts to talk: one garmon’ is in A minor another in C minor. For me it’s a dark wood”. “He [the uncle] played and I [learned it] by ear. I didn’t look at his fingers. Never once. I couldn’t even understand that.” 
Mikhail remembers a touching episode from his early creative period. When his uncle was already old and close to death he listened to his nephew’s playing. Mentioning that he had managed to take over his own elaborated version of the tune “Zavidochka”, he said to him: “My dear nephew, now I am ready to die. My memory will remain.” It seems that this remark expresses the serious relationship of both the older and the younger man to the garmon’ and its repertoire either. 
THE LOCAL REPERTOIRE 
Like most active garmon’ players, Mikhail Leonidovich is able to play every popular melody with a diatonic structure which he is asked to perform at social events. However, he devotes most attention and skill to the traditional local repertoire (pod pesni) or at least to local versions of common Russian tunes, such as the “Tsyganochka” (Video 1) or the “Barynia” (Video 2), a typical Russian pliaska melody based on a four-quarter pattern. 
According to its polyfunctional character, the non-dancing genre pod pesni covers most different emotional states – high spirits when walking through the village at parish fairs, lyrical feelings in spinning rooms, and deepest despair before military service. Sorochinsky can talk in a lively and detailed way about this social framework of music-making which he knows exclusively from narratives of the older generation. 
The lyrical and even tragic notes of the genre pod pesni are well expressed in the tune “Raskhodnaia” (from the verb raskhoditsia – to break up, as the genre had an important communicative function for indicating the end of a dance event). Like most of the old musicians, Sorochinsky prefers to perform this tune with recruit songs (pripevki,13 Ex. 1,14 Video 3). The “Raskhodnaia” reveals typical features of the genre: the modest tempo, short melodic motives, frequently in semiquavers, combined with an ostinato-like bass line, continuously emphasising the tonic. Thus, the basic pattern structure is obscured—a puzzling effect which is increased by the avoidance of clear cadences, except at the end of a vocal strophe. Sorochinsky’s “Raskhodnaia” belongs to those “pre-harmonic” garmon’ tunes that are close to bagpiping, formerly widespread in Smolensk province (Morgenstern 2009). Of special importance here is not only the significance of the lower fourth (crucial for the rhythmic articulation of bagpipe tunes, played with closed fingering) but also that which Mikhail calls the perevod (bridge passage). This is a short descending motive he very often uses at the beginning (Ex. 3, 6) or the end of a tune, and even more between different tunes when continuously performing for a longer time. In a very similar way bagpipers use initial, bridge and final motives. These melodic features of bagpiping, as well as extended bass drones in some regions, are used by older Russian garmon’ players, particularly in tunes of the early repertoire of the instrument. 
The tune “Zavidochka” (Morgenstern 2008) probably appeared in Dukhovshchina rayon in the 1930s. In its original area in the rayon Olenino of Tver’ province it belongs to the non-dance pod pesni genre, while in the former Government of Smolensk it could be played not only “for walking” but also as a pliaska tune. As will be shown below, these func­tional varieties of the “Zavidochka” correspond with different modes of musical expression. 
13 In the Tverskaia smolenshchina and Dukhovshchina rayon, the term pripevka is sometimes explained as a local synonym of the standard Russian chastushka. It is also used with regard to local short songs of the pod pesni genre. 
14 Here and in the following sections, the abbreviation Ex. refers to the transcriptions at the end of the present article (see Appendix). 

Melodic renditions of the “Zavidochka” (“Ponizovskaia”). 
The instrumental part of the “Zavidochka” is generally based on an eight-quarter pat­tern in two-four time. The harmonic movement starts with an up-beat on the tonic (or its parallel) while the following measure tends towards the subtonic (dominant parallel) or the dominant, leading to a cadenza on the tonic. The melody is based on a minor pentachord, usually extended to the subtonic. The vocal part corresponds to the chastushka verse (see footnote 14) in a quasi-recitative quaver rhythm. 
Mikhail Sorochinsky distinguishes between two local variants of the “Zavidochka”— the “Ponizovskaia” (Ex. 3, 4, 5; Video 4, 5, 6), from the village of Ponizovie, located about 21 km to the north-east of Kolpity, and the “Velistovskaia” (Ex. 6; Video 7), from the village of Velisto in the northern part of the Dukhovshchina raion, near Ozërnyi. In the first recording session, Mikhail demonstrated three different individual versions of the “Ponizovskaia”. His father’s version, his uncle’s and his own (see figure on p. 43) show the most characteristic melodic renditions. The basic pattern A can be described as a melodic movement from the tonic or the third back to the tonic. An A’ pattern leads to the fifth, from where the following pattern A’’ returns to the tonic. All three versions contain the pattern A as well as the melodic arch A’ – A’’. Only the “Ponizovskaia” elaborated by his uncle contains an additional section B with a strong emphasis on the subtonic, in B’ pat­terns intensified by a sustained chord or double note. The comparison reveals that the individual versions of the basic pattern A differ only in slight melodic details; however, Misha continuously demonstrates these individual melodic markers. 
All of the versions of the “Ponizovskaia” described here are played in a lively manner with a comparatively high tempo (stabilising at 138-144 bpm) that corresponds to their dance function. Another functional version of Mikhail’s preferred “Ponizovskaia” differs considerably in its tempo, melodics and other expressive qualities (see below). 
A feeling for local stylistics and style boundaries is of the greatest importance for traditional Russian instrumental culture. It is, however, rarely linked a sense of the supe­riority of the musician’s own local practice. When Mikhail appreciates the local version of the “Barynia” more than that of the Pskovian “Skobari”, his judgement is based not on general resentments but on aesthetic criteria: “Anyway, our ‘Barynia’ is merrier [veselei]”. “They [play it] slowly [redko, s. below]. Ours is merrier, ours is better.” Interestingly, he qualifies his statement in a relativist way: “They, maybe, would say that theirs is better. As it is said: Any hen will praise its swamp” (all quotations: August 2011). 
AESTHETIC CONCEPTS, EMOTIONAL PATTERNS, AND MODES OF EXPRESSION 
Traditional musicians generally refer to a certain set of structural orientations, conceptual­izing form, melodics, texture and other parameters. In Sorochinsky’s (and also Kozlov’s) concept, a structural cornerstone is the akkord as well as koleno. The former does not necessarily refer to a chord, but more to a basic finger position. The latter designates a short melodic section. Besides these analytical concepts in Sorochinsky's terminology of style and repertoire, terms and metaphors referring to aesthetics, emotions and the expressive qualities of specific manners of articulation are of much greater significance. 
In Russian folk culture a pleasing instrumental performance is frequently charac­terised as lovkii (dexterous, adroit, clever or deft). Thus, Mikhail paraphrases an episode from a teaching situation with a young garmonist: “I showed him the akkord. Take the akkord, and after that practice by yourself. Maybe you’ll be able to play it more adroitly [lovchei]” (March 2011).15 Etymologically the term is linked to the verb lovit’ (to catch). It is associated with hunting, fishing and with a wide range of other abilities which were vital in pre-industrial societies. Not surprisingly, the quality of lovkost’ is of the greatest importance for the traditional concept of manhood. Its significance as a socially accepted ideal is expressed in a typical pripevka “pod draku” (for brawling), aimed to provoke fights between the representatives of concurring territorial groups in socially framed (and thus controlled) situations:16 
Skobari—rebiata lovki,  The Pskovians are clever boys,  
Starorusskie—lovchei:  The boys from Staraia Russa are cleverer:  
Navernuli kirpichinoi,  They are clobbering with clinkers  
Vot gadai, otkuda chei.17  Only guess from where is whose.  

Positive characterisations of instrumental playing can also directly refer to human emotions. The concept of vesel’e (merrymaking) is essential to Russian cultural history18 and contemporary self-perception. It frequently appears in the terminology of instrumental style, especially with regard to the pliaska repertoire. Sorochinsky mentions that the pliaska version of the “Zavidochka” described above “has to be played more merrily [po-veselee]” (2009). This characterisation refers most of all to the high tempo, but it is linked to a specific articulation as well. When the already mentioned garmonist Anatolii Kozlov listened to my own humble attempt to play his “Barynia”, recorded two days before, his first comment was: “There is no vesel’e”. As Kozlov explained, “your fingers are stuck on the buttons too long”, so he felt the characteristic articulation of staccato or staccato-tenuto was missing. 
15 Here and in the remaining article, the year of recording is given in brackets after the citations. 16 On ritual fights and the role on instrumental music see Morgenstern 2007: 143–154, 237–240. It has to be noted that the representation of these rather serious confrontations in song texts is largely exaggerated. 17 See the performance of Viktor Dmitriev (garmon’), Nikolai Lunëv Evgeniii Ivanov (voice, dance) from the Staraia Russa district of the Novgorod province, issued by the Brotherhood of the garmon’ players Sviatoi istok (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kuzDxzVIq_4). 18 Cf. the chapter “The skomorokhi and the Old-Russian concept of merrymaking” (Panchenko 1984). In 16th–17th century Russia vesëlyi was an official term for the skomorokh profession (Koshelev 1994: fn.. 46, 48). 
No less significant than vesel’e in Sorochinsky’s concept is the notion of zaiadlost’ (pas­sion, abandon). In colloquial Russian, the term frequently indicates amusements (generally without erotic implications) and to leisure activities, especially those which are considered to be male ones, such as fishing, playing cards, smoking and playing soccer. Again, this concept is linked to the pliaska genre: “My ‘Tsyganochka’ is passionate [zaiadlaia]” (March 2011). Continuing his teaching recommendations, Sorochinsky remarks: “You need to insert a perebor19 […]. From there zaiadlost’ can arise – or how do you call it? – virtuosity” (March 2011). The fact that the musician, in the dialogue with the fieldworker, expressly translates the term into standard Russian, underlines its significance as an aesthetic concept of his local community. 
As mentioned before, it would be a great misjudgement to characterise traditional Russian instrumental music solely as a domain of vesel’e. Effusive gaiety represents only one side of style and repertoire. Mikhail takes the modest and solemn parts of his repertoire and their corresponding modes of expression very seriously. They are closely related to the concept of zhalostlivost’, expressing compassion and sorrow. Like its counterpart vesel’e, the concept is deeply rooted in Russian self-perception. Zhalostlivost’ and related terminology are widely associated with lyrical song genres and with ritual laments, but also with short songs (pod pesni) and their instrumental counterparts. 
It’s drawn-out [the “Raskhodnaia”], sorrowfully [zhalostlivo]. For it’s a gloomy one, they are saying farewell. They played it for pripevki too […] when walking through the village […]. Anyway, they preferred to sing such sorrowful [zhalostlivye] pripevki to it. Anyway, they don’t laugh to this tune. Here you simply pour out your soul. (March 2011) 
While the “Raskhodnaia” is most of all related to lyrical or tragic feelings and reserved behaviour (“they don’t laugh to this tune”), the “Zavidochka” has very different emotional nuances. For walking through the village the tune was performed po-rezhe [some more redko]. The widespread stylistic opposites of chasto and redko can refer to a more or less intensive melodic rhythm (inner tempo, after Christensen 1960) and rhythmic articula­tion (Morgenstern 2007: 183f). In Sorochinsky’s concept it seems to be linked more to the general tempo. Mikhail plays the “Zavidochka” (“Ponizovskaia”) po-rezhe with 127 bpm (recorded in 2009, venka accordion, without transcription and video). He explains the moderate tempo with technical aspects of vocal performance: “When you play it chasto for singing a pripevka you’ll get out of breath when you are walking and you have to sing it quickly [bystro]. Apparently for this reason they played it po-rezhe” (March 2011). 
19 The verb perebirat’ literally means “sorting out” (for example peas). Aleftina Mikhailova, in the con­text of the Saratov accordion, aptly translates perebor as “fingerpicking” (2010/2011: 211). The term can indeed be related to broken chords on the guitar. In the context of accordion style, perebor mostly refers to melodic motives in semiquavers, not necessarily with chordal melodics. 
In an interesting way, performance style could be interlinked with more intimate situa­tions in the life of a young musician. Mikhail singles out two versions of his “Zavidochka”, played on the way to a date: 
You play it po-veselee […] This way one is going to meet a girl. [He plays the “Zavidochka” with 132 bpm] […]. But when he is going home after meeting the girl, maybe he had a quarrel with her […] [the same tune is played with 91 bpm]. So you can show your gloom. It was common. (March 2011) 
The context of the performance with its contrasting expressive qualities and emotional nuances corresponds to two functional varieties of the pod pesni genre, formerly common in the rayons of Kun’ia and Velikie luki in Pskov province and the neighbouring parts of Tver’ province, called “K devkam” (to the girls) and “Ot devok” (back from the girls). They accompany the way to a dancing event and back. Apart from this group performance the traditional situation Sorochinsky refers to, at least to some extent, can be understood as an example for musical holicipation (Killick) in the past.20 
Mikhail demonstrated the tune “Zavidochka” (“Ponizovskaia”) as “Redkaia” or “Zavidochka redkaia” during my visit in 2011 when worry about his relative dampened his mood. In that situation he remembered that “one can cry to this tune, to the ‘Redkaia’, when you play it” (Ex. 6, Audio 1). At the same time the musician associated the actual rendering of the “Zavidochka” (at the moderate tempo of 98 bpm) with the performance situation of the parish fair: “That’s how they walk through the village”. 
One of the musical expressions of zhalostlivost’ are the longer note values on the fifth-quavers instead of the regular semiquavers. The impression of “drawn-out” playing is intensified by slight prolongations at the beginning of the period (Ex. 1). “Overlapped”21 semitone trills on the fifth as well as repetitions of the same scale degree are also typical. Significantly, before the above-cited characterisation of zhalostlivost’, Sorochinsky demon­strated the corresponding manners of playing the garmon’ with a short vocal imitation of the instrumental repetitions. Mikhail frequently places such tension-filled passages directly after a pripevka, especially when it contains a strongly emotional text (Ex. 1, line 5, 10). 
In a similar way, Mikhail remembers the individual style of his uncle: “It was somehow more drawn-out [po-tiaguchee] […]. There is a section of the tune [koleno] which is like that, you draw it out. It touches your soul [lit.: “it takes you by the soul”]. This melodic turn [pereliv] touches your soul.” Comparing the “Zavidochka” from his homeland (the “Ponizovskaia”) 
20 This does not diminish the significance of chastushka performance as the only socially accepted way of communicating his own “relationship status” to the community, as Adonieva clearly points out. Yet there is much evidence of performance situations when a musician was walking alone through the woods, singing and playing the garmon’. This really looks more like a “lonely lyrical meditation” (Adonieva 2006, see footnote 14). 
21 In the transcription overlapping is represented with a double slur. 
with the “Velistovskaia”, the musician remarks: “In our region they took the melody higher, so to speak … so it touches your soul [he imitates the instrumental repetitions]” (March 2011, see Audio 3). The actual melodic version of his uncle’s “Zavidovka” (Ex. 3, Video 5) does not correspond so well with Mikhail’s characterisation, but there is no doubt that an experienced garmonist such as Pëtr Kupreshin played the tune with a wide range of emotional nuances. The “drawn out” manner, the “higher melody” and the repetitive notes which appear in Mikhail’s vocal imitations are much more noticeable in his own “Redkaia” (Ex. 6, Audio 1). This especially concerns the repetitive quavers on the fifth at the beginning of the period. These “soul-touching” musical gestures (intonations in Boris Asaf’ev’s sense) correspond to the expressions of zhalostlivost’ in Sorochinsky’s “Raskhodnaia”. 
With regard to the vocal articulation of zhalostlivost’ it has to be noted that local female singers perform pripevki, especially with lyrical or tragic texts, in an unique manner, with a very special timbre and with rich ornamentation, including frequent downward glissando (Audio 2). It would be interesting to compare these expressive qualities with historical recordings of the local laments, as the stylistic ties between the pod pesni genre and ritual laments are very close, more so than in other regions (Morgenstern 2007: 207, 333, 349–352). 
PERORMANCE SITUATIONS 
Mikhail Sorochinsky is frequently asked to perform at private parties and at official events in the rayon centre of Dukhovshhina; however, he prefers to play only for close friends and relatives. Mikhail does not take part in the musical life of the cultural centre in Ozërnyi, which is more orientated towards contemporary popular music and Russian karaoke.22 It was really hard work for Elena Razumovskaia to encourage Mikhail to participate in the concert in Saint Petersburg. As the musician remembers himself, it was his colleagues who finally persuaded him to join in. They personally organised the tickets, packed his instru­ment and took him to the train station in Smolensk. 
At my last visit in August 2011 Mikhail remembered one social performance situation that fits well in his understanding of local music-making. It was a wedding in the village of Nivka, near Ozërnyi. Mikhail twice emphasized the contrast between the official ceremony in the town and the celebration in the village: 
The first day everything was as it [officially] is supposed to be [kak polozheno], in 
the school, in the hall. And the second day—in the village. And there it really began 
to take off in our way [po-nashemu]. 
22 At the beginning of my visit in March 2011 the above-mentioned cultural centre director Aleksandr Babtenkov, who plays the synthesizer and the guitar, expressed some scepticism towards the “primi­tive” khromka with its diatonic scale. However, after listening attentively to Sorochinsky’s tunes he was ready to acknowledge his playing as “an art of its own”. 
They are good guys. The first day, anyway, it was all very cultivated. The second day we went to the village, to Nivka. And there it took off. Tables outdoors. Singing 
pripevki. How did she …?  
Kartoshka polola,  I was weeding the potatoes,  
Teret’ borozdënku.  To clean the furrow.  
Ukusil menia cherviak  A worm bit me  
Priamo …. [silently] … za pizdënku  Directly in the pussy.  

That’s our kolkhoz Russia [he laughs]. Not by chance do they say: A naked person is 
rich in inventions [gol’ na vydumki bogata]. 
Look—that’s why … how many times did they try. The French and the Germans 
and the Mongols … you can never conquer [Russia]. (August 2011) 
Mikhail’s associations, arising from the performance of the bawdy pliasovaia (dance) pripevka described here, will be discussed later. Here I only want to point at the fact that when singing pripevki (chastushki) some performers make use of explicit sexual vocabulary they never would allow themselves to pronounce in any other situation. Precisely the same is true for singing Gstanzln in the Alpine Region. 
Mikhail refers to the wedding episode as something exceptional. In any case, his most typical performance situation is music without social live: 
Only for myself. Sometimes you are exhausted. You sit down and start to play. Somehow 
a good mood comes up. Somehow life becomes interesting. 
At home I pick it up frequently. But I don’t go out to play. At New Year at work 
usually. (March 2011) 
CONFLICTS 
The reason for Sorochinsky’s reluctance with regard to public performance is a profound conflict with his potential audience. Most of all, the musician feels that they lack a proper understanding of the traditional repertoire and of the corresponding expressive behaviour. 
They can’t get it. If you come out to dance, you have to sing pripevki. It’s really 
unpleasant. How can it be interesting to play at a wedding. You come there. They 
call to you like a clown. It can happen that you are playing and they start laughing. 
For instance, I say: Sing a pripevka—they understand it as a chastushka! … They 
don’t understand that it’s all taken from life. It’s unpleasant. My god, why did you 
call me? Why do you need this? 
There are situations like that at every festivity. (March 2011) 
In general, Sorochinsky—like other musicians from the region—understands the standard Russian term chastushka as a synonym of pripevka. However, in the given context his critical remark obviously reflects the imagery of the chastushka as it is promoted by numerous folk-like TV shows. Here, traditional music turns into a caricature of “Russian vesel’e” and the garmonist himself appears as a trivialized Van’ka durak (Van’ka the fool). Unfortunately, such national stereotypes seem to have a certain influence on local cultural behaviour: 
Now they cannot even dance. You sing a pripevka, and they don’t understand it. They laugh, they take it as a joke. What is this pripevka about? He who has seen the war, his eyes will immediately well up with tears. Those who haven’t seen it don’t understand anything. Apparently life is changing. 
Viewing himself in the role of a clown, Mikhail expresses his conflict with the con­temporary audience arising from their misconception of the serious parts of the traditional instrumental repertoire. This is a very personal conflict, not a social one or a matter of cultural policy, from where (in other contexts) revival movements with their specific politi­cal motivations may arise. Sorochinsky does not share the enthusiasm of certain revivalists for “rebirthing national culture” or even fighting westernized popular culture. Thus, for instance, Russian pop singers like Alla Pugachëva played a major part in his musical biogra­phy: Such preferences, however, did not seem to affect his style and repertoire as a garmonist. 
Thus, Mikhail’s motivations for solitary music-making are both positive and nega­tive. Negative motivations clearly arise from incompetent and insensitive audiences. One positive effect he describes is the psychological stabilization and encouragement—when playing the garmon’ opens the senses for the inner and outer world in a new way (“a good mood comes up […] life becomes interesting”, s. above). This state of mind is very close to Iunoki-Oie’s observations on the Kostroma balalaika players (Iunioki-Oie 2004, s. above). 
Regardless to these positives effects of solitary music-making, it is obvious that the main incentive for Mikhail to play the garmon’ is his great dedication to the music itself. When he started playing in the late 1980ies—and spent many hours a week with elaborating his individual style and repertoire—it was already obvious that the social demand for his art will be rather limited. Here the question arises: Is Mikhail Sorochinsky’s solitary music practice “a substitute for something better”? Killick denies this role of musical holicipation in many cases. And it is not likely that it is true for Mikhail either. Firstly, if his inter­est in being a musician would have been primarily social he would have choosen not the garmon’ but the guitar—and I am sure he would have become the star of Kolpity and the surrounding villages very quickly. But he didn’t. Secondly, he just doesn’t look like a man who is suffering from what he does not have. To speak with Mick Jagger: “But if you try sometime you find / You get what you need.” 
IDENTITY BEYOND MUSIC— MUSIC BEYOND IDENTITY 
Like many Russian traditional musicians, Mikhail Sorochinsky has a broad field of practi­cal and intellectual interests. He is attentive to discourses on local and national identities. Mikhail experiences a deep affinity to local cultural values and traditional patterns of behaviour, i.e. for everything which is covered by the notion of po-nashemu. He also can talk extensively on issues of Russian history, mentality and expressive culture in a broad sense. Mikhail could be called a Russian patriot, yet his feelings for his country are far from the sort of noisy chauvinism that is officially promoted in today’s Russia as “military-patriotic education”. His understanding of Russianness can indeed include the qualities of physical and mental strength that more than once in history helped Russia to survive as a nation. This national self-image became clear to me in a conversation late at night in August 2011. The obvious fact that his German guest would not drink samogon at the same speed and in the same quantity as he did, led him to an ironical association with the defeat of the Wehrmacht: “Not without reason your people didn’t take Moscow.” 
How are Mikhail’s local and national identities linked to his art as a garmonist? Not very much. He neither speaks of his garmon’ as a Russian instrument, nor do his perfor­mances intend to strengthen the identity of any cultural entity, be it local communities or the nation. In his artistic concept and practice there is no place for promoting the visibility of anything else other than the people who are directly included in the actual performance situation. This is a crucial difference to most kinds of revivalist or educational activism we know from Russian folk music discourses (Olson 2004) and to revival movements in general, where visibility (of a nation, an ethnic group, traditional culture or whatever) is a cornerstone (Ronström 1996). 
There is, however, one particular aspect of performance Mikhail refers to as a specific Russian phenomenon. As we have seen, in his lively narration of the village wedding, which is celebrated po-nashemu, the expressive qualities of the female pripevka singer were directly associated with Mikhail’s view of the most dramatic periods of Russian history (“How many times did they try?”). 
The exciting vocal performance of chastushki (pripevki) apparently has something “very Russian” about it, as it is linked to distinct forms, both of verbal expression and of highly emotional declamation. Therefore it is only natural that non-Russian immi­grant singers in the Soviet period could quickly acquire the contemporary pan-Russian repertoires, but would easily fail to fit in with the typical articulation of the chastushka (Morgenstern 2014: 130). 
In an even more concrete sense than in Mikhail’s associations of the wedding episode, in a dramatic narrative of the balalaika player Aleksei Leonov (1927—2011) music and dance are directly interlinked with the will to survive. During the war, the young musician had to flee from his home, living for a long time in the woods: 
Life was very hard. I couldn’t take anything but the balalaika. And the balalaika […] even in war […] the Germans were beating us, killing us. But anyway, afterwards, those who remained alive came together somewhere under a shelter. With the balalaika and we started again, we picked up the balalaika, sang songs. And those who could, danced. And our lives went on. That’s why I said that it is probably impossible to kill us Russians with anything. Not with hunger, not with anything, we will survive anyway. That’s why I took the balalaika and not bread. (Village of Fishikha, Porkhov district of the Pskov province, fieldwork in April 1995) 
In these narratives, instrumental music, singing and dancing appear as manifesta­tions of human energy and the triumph of life. In view of the extreme situation of war, these expressive practices and qualities can happen to be associated with the survival of the nation. But this does not mean that reinforcing national (or even local) identities is a continuous motivation for rural musicians like Mikhail Sorochinsky, Aleksei Leonov – or for the many hundreds of pre-revival balalaika or garmon’ players in Russia I have met during my fieldwork between 1989 and 2012 (cf. Morgenstern 2013). 
CONCLUSION 
Mikhail Sorochinsky is an outstanding musician with an excellent memory, a rich rep­ertoire and highly developed skills in playing his instrument, the garmon’. Unlike many other rural musicians in Russia, he plays regularly, constantly enriching his style and repertoire. However, his social environment happens to make use of his performances only in exceptional situations. Sorochinsky’s existence as a musician can to a large part be understood as solitary music-making, as music without social life. A precondition for this kind of performance practice is a culture in which the “function of aesthetic enjoyment” (Merriam 1964: 223) has highest priority—at least in the recent past. This is more likely to be possible if—in such a culture—the repertoire and the performing style correspond to high aesthetic demands. 
The observations on Mikhail Sorochinsky’s musical life may, to some extent, correct concepts of the relationship between the social and the artistic dimension of music, which are influential in modern ethnomusicology. Killick’s promising idea of solitary music-making has the potential to turn the traditional dichotomy of participatory vs. presentative music-making offered by Klusen und Turino into a triadic model where music-making appears as presentation—participation—holicipation. 
APPENDIX: TRANSCRIPTIONS 
Ex. 1: “Raskhodnaia” (Video 3, cf. Video 1). 


54 
Ex. 2: “Zavidochka” (“Ponizovskaia”), “as my father plays it” (Video 4, cf. Video 1). Ex. 3: “Zavidochka” (“Ponizovskaia”), “as my father plays it” (Video 5, cf. Video 1). 



57 
Ex. 4: “Zavidochka” (“Ponizovskaia”), “as I like it” (Video 6, cf. Video 1). 


59 
Ex. 5: “Zavidochka” (“Velistovskaia”) (Video 7). Ex. 6: “Redkaia Zavidochka” (“Ponizovskaia”) and “Raskhodnaia” (Audio 1). 



62 
REFERENCES 
Adonieva, Svetlana. 2006. Derevenskaia chastushka XX veka [The Rural chastushka of the 20th Century]. Sankt-Peterburg: Izd. SPbGU. 
Christensen, Dieter. 1960. Inner Tempo and Melodic Tempo. Ethnomusicology 4: 9–14. 
Famintsyn, Aleksandr. 1890. Gusli: Russkii narodnyi muzykal’nyi instrument [The gusli: A Russian Folk Musical Instrument]. Sankt-Peterburg: Tip. Akad. nauk. 
Glassie, Henry. 1995. Tradition. The Journal of American Folklore 108 (430): 395–412. 
Iunoki-Oie [Yunoki-Oie] Kaori. 2004. Balalaika v bezpis’mennoi tradicii dovoennogo vremeni [The Balalaika in Oral Tradition of the Pre-War Period]. Moskva: RAM im. Gnessinykh. 
Killick, Andrew. 2006. Holicipation: Prolegomenon to an Ethnography of Solitary Music-Making. Ethnomusicology Forum 15 (2): 273–299. 
Klusen, Ernst. 1969. Volkslied, Fund und Erfindung. Köln: Gerig. 
Klusen, Ernst. 1989. Singen: Materialien zu einer Theorie (Perspektiven zur Musikpädagogik und Musikwissenschaft; 11). Regensburg: Bosse. 
Koshelev, Vladimir Vasilievich (1994): Skomorokhi i skomoroshia professiia [Skomorokhi and skomorokh Profession]. Sankt-Peterburg: Khronograf. 
Merriam, Alan P. 1964. The Anthropology of Music. Evanston, Illinois: Northwestern UP. 
Mikhailova, Aleftina. 2010/2011. “Saratovskie Perebory”: Kanonicheskie osnovy v interpretatsii traditsionnogo garmoshechnogo naigrysha [“Saratov fingerpicking”: Canonic Principles in Interpretation of Traditional playing the melodeon [sic]. PAX SONORIS IV–V211–213. 
Morgenstern, Ulrich [s. also: Morgenshtern, Ul’rikh]. 2007. Die Musik der Skobari: Studien zu lokalen Traditionen instrumentaler Volksmusik im Gebiet Pskov (Nordwestrußland): Vol. 1. Göttingen: Cuvillier. 
Morgenstern, Ulrich. 2008. Der Skobarja von Velikie Luki und angrenzende instrumental-vokale Formen im Gebiet Tver’: Ethnische und ethnomusikalische Identität. In: Albrecht Schneider (ed.), Systematic and Comparative Musicology: Concepts, Methods, Findings (Hamburger Jahrbuch für Musikwissenschaft; 24). Frankfurt a.M. [...]: 399–442. 
Morgenstern, Ulrich. 2009. Die Sackpfeifenmelodien der russischen Harmonikaspieler. In: Rolf Bader (ed.), 
Musical Acoustics, Neurocognition and Psychology of Music / Musikalische Akustik, Neurokognition und Musikpsychologie (Hamburger Jahrbuch für Musikwissenschaft; 25). Frankfurt a.M. [...]: Peter Lang, 201–232. 
Morgenshtern, Ul’rikh [Morgenstern, Ulrich]. 2011. Russkaia chastushka kak etnomuzykovedcheskaia problema [The Russian chastushka as an ethnomusicological isue]. In: Nailia Al’meeva et al. (eds.), Fol’klor i my: Traditsionnaia kul’tura v zerkale ee vozpriiatiia. Sbornik nauchnych statei, posviashchennyi 70-letiiu I.I. Zemtsovskogo, ch. II. Sankt-Peterburg: RIII, 83–99. 
Morgenstern, Ulrich. 2013. Dynamics of Identity in Russian Instrumental Folk Music Culture. Muzikas akademijas raksti, 42–52. 
Morgenstern, Ulrich. 2018. Towards the History of Ideas in Ethnomusicology: Theory and Methods Between the Late 18th and the Early 20th Century. Musicologist 2 (1): 1–31. Available at: dergipark. gov.tr/download/article-file/498520 
Olson, Laura J. 2004. Performing Russia: Folk Revival and Russian Identity. New York [...]: Routledge Curzon. 
Panchenko, Aleksandr. 1984. Russkaia kul'tura v kanun petrovskikh reform [The Culture on the Eve of the Reforms of Peter the Great]. Leningrad: Nauka. 
Ronström, Owe. 1996. Revival Reconsidered. The World of Music 38 (3): 5–20. 
Turino, Thomas. 2008. Music as Social Life: The Politics of Participation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 
Zemtsovskii, Izalii. 1984. O prirode fol’klora v svete ispolnitel’skogo obshcheniia [On the Nature of Folklore in the Light of Performance Communication]. In: Antolii Kuklin (ed.), Iskusstvo i obshchenie. Leningrad: LGITMiK, 142–150. 
SOURCES OF VIDEOS, AUDIOS23 AND TRANSCRIPTIONS (EX. 1–6) 
Video 1: “Barynia”, played on the garmon’ venka by Mikhail Leonidovich Sorochinsky (b. 1974 in Kolpity, Belyi district, Tver’ province). Fieldwork by Ulrich Morgenstern together with Igor Stesev and Danila Novikov, 10. 8. 2009, Kotovo, Belyi district, Tver’ province. 
Video 2: “Tsyganochka”, played on the garmon’ chromka by Mikhail Leonidovich Sorochinsky (b. 1974), sung by Mariia Grigorievna Gugnina (b. 1932 in Sel’tsy, Dukhovshchina district, Smolensk province). Fieldwork by Ulrich Morgenstern, 31. 8. 2011, Ozërnyi, Dukhovshchina district, Smolensk province. 
Video 3, Ex. 1: “Raskhodnaia”, played on the garmon’ chromka by Mikhail Leonidovich Sorochinsky (b. 1974). Fieldwork by Ulrich Morgenstern together with Igor Stesev and Danila Novikov, 6.–7. 8. 2009, Ozërnyi, , Dukhovshchina district, Smolensk province. 
Video 4, Ex. 2: “Zavidochka” (“Ponizovskaia”), “as my father plays it”, s. Video 3. 
Video 5, Ex. 3I: “Zavidochka” (“Ponizovskaia”), “as my uncle played it”, s. Video 3. 
Video 6, Ex. 4: “Zavidochka” (“Ponizovskaia”), “as I like it”, s. Video 3. 
Video 6, Ex. 4: “Zavidochka” (“Ponizovskaia”), “as I like it”, s. Video 3. 
Video 7, Ex. 5: “Zavidochka” (“Velistovskaia”), s. Video 3. 
Video 8: “Raskhodnaia”, s. Video 2. 
Audio 1, Ex. 6: “Redkaia Zavidochka” (“Ponizovskaia”) and “Raskhodnaia”, played and commented by Mikhail 
Leonidovich Sorochinsky. Fieldwork by Ulrich Morgenstern, 19. 3. 2011, Ozërnyi, Dukhovshchina district, Smolensk province. 
Audio 2: “Pripevki”. Sung by Anna Pimanovna Tupiakova (b. 1930). Fieldwork by Ulrich Morgenstern, 
8. 8. 2009, village of Vereshkovichi, Dukhovshchina district, Smolensk province. 
Audio 3: From an interview with Mikhail Sorochinsky. Fieldwork by Ulrich Morgenstern, 19. 3. 2011, Ozërnyi, Dukhovshchina district, Smolensk province. 
23 Videos and audios are available in the online version of the article. 
GLASBA BREZ DRUŽBENEGA ŽIVLJENJA: 
HARMONIKAR MIHAIL SOROČINSKI, NE-POUSTVARJALNI GLASBENIK 
IZ SMOLENSKEGA OKROŽJA 
V ruralnih skupnostih sodobne Rusije inštrumentalna glasba ne igra velike vloge. Prevladujejo odrske izvedbe v slogu sovjetskega folklorizma in le redko (čeprav vse pogostoje) so na odru tudi ljudski glasbeniki. Pravo nasprotje temu folklorizmu pa je izvrstni harmonikar Mihail Soročinski (1974) iz okolice Smolenska, ki igra na garmon (vrsta kromatične gumbne harmonike). Njegovo najbolj priljubljeno izvajanje je glasbena »samokomunikacija« (samoobshchenie, Izaly Zemtsovsky) oziroma samostojno glasbeno ustvarjanje (Andrew Killick). 
Prispevek, ki temelji na pozornosti na izvajalca, predstavlja glasbeno življenje Soročinskega in njegovo, ne vedno enostavno povezavo z lastnim družbenim in glasbenim okoljem. Glavni poudarek je, kako glasbenik tudi z lastno estetiko razvija in oblikuje svoj zelo tradicionalen in hkrati zelo individualen slog in repertoar. Ob tem avtor razkriva temeljne koncepte ruske tradicionalne/ljudske inštrumentalne glasbe, vključno s »funkcijo estetskega užitka« (Alan P. Merriam) kot temeljne motivacije za izvajanje, pokaže pa tudi globoke emocionalne korenine ustvarjanja glasbe. To sta zhalostlivost’ (žalost in sočutje) in njeno nasprotje vesel’e (veselje), ki sta močno povezani z inštrumentalno glasbo. Prispevek temelji na terenskih raziskavah v letih 2009 in 2011. 
Prof. Dr. Ulrich Morgenstern, Department of Folk Music Research and Ethnomusicology, MDW – University of Music and Performing Arts Vienna, Anton-von-Webern-Platz 1, A – 1030 Vienna, Austria, morgenstern@mdw.ac.at