Mat’ Moya Maria - Russian Song

Vocals and arrangement by Farya Faraji. It was about time I started delving into the Eastern Slavic repertoire of music, so I finally got to it. This is a Russian folk song which I’ve found in two main varieties: one in the major mode, often sung by children, and the other in the harmonic minor found here, said harmonic minor being one of the typical characteristics of Eastern European folk songs, in contrast to most Western European ones. I could only find two other variations of this song using the minor mode, and both use their instrumental bridges similarly, although this one most closely emulates Mitya Kuznetsov’s rendition and owes a lot to it. I decided to go for a Medieval to Early Modern arrangement in terms of instrumentation: therefore the instruments used are the volynka (bagpipe), a fiddle, the jaw harp and flutes, as well as simple percussions. This general soundscape is very characteristic of the area of Central and Eastern Europe, including Carpathian music. The instrument I’m seen playing is the gusli, possibly the oldest and most important instrument of the Kievan Rus civilisation, and still the principal instrument of the folk repertoire of Russia, Belarus and Ukraine. The modern varieties however use metal strings, but I substituted mine with nylgut strings in order to get a more historically accurate texture, as the gusli historically used gut or silk strings, which confers to them a different sound. Lyrics in Russian: Мать моя Марие по полю ходила Свечи разносила, у Бога просила: “Боже наш, Боже, уроди нам роже, Ржички, пашенички в каждом колосичке“. Маленьки ребятки во граде стояли, Во граде стояли, Христа дожидали. Христос народился, во граде явился, а вы, люди, знайте, нам пшенца подайте! А вы люди знайте, по копейке дайте, По копейке мало, целого барана Сейте дорожку, давай понемножку, Дому добро, в поле зерно English translation (approximate): My mother Mary walked across the field She carried the candles, she asked God: “Our God, God, give us rye,” Rye in every spikelet, Little children stood in the city, They stood in the city, waiting for Christ. Christ was born, appeared in the city, and you, people, give us wheat. And you people, give a penny, But a penny’s not enough; a whole sheep, Sow a path, come on a little, Good at home, grain in the field