One listen.

I had a fair bit of concern doing this as I was worried about wandering into misrepresentation. I didn’t want to do something like say “deep spirituality ethnic sounds”. Admittedly that’s a bit dramatic, but to me it seems that a lot of non-English music is often portrayed as being more spiritual, cosmic, or lazily classified as “ethnic” when it better described as folk music, and that’s not something I want to be contributing to.

My understanding when it comes to Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares (aka The Mystery of the Bulgarian Voices) is that it was initially rooted in ethnomusicological research and exploration, and became something beyond that. If that’s not the case, then please let me know.

When it came to writing this, I think I was influenced a bit by a sense of scene in terms of where I’ve been when I’ve been listening to the song. That didn’t come through too much, however, and I feel that my concerns around covering the song might’ve made my writing a bit more hesitant than I’d have liked. Good to have the concern, but best to work with it.

Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares’ “Pora Sotunda” is from BooCheeMish.

I hope you enjoy.

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Voices in harmony repeating a phrase as gentle percussion plays along, enhancing the rhythm. Another voice takes lead, draws long, follows a line. The choir steps back, and eventually another voice comes in, a little more hushed, and only for a moment.

A voice rises up in bits, allowing space and calling out, and then it holds the floor. The percussion returns, as does the chorus, and it all seems to descend and follow lines of terrain and geography, flowing into a valley and spilling out with all the added instrumentation forming a sort of cradle… maybe. It’s all there and everything supports everything.

There’s something touching about this. Something that feels like being held, being understood. Being comforted in a way that’s difficult to replicate.

It all moves to one voice and minimal instrumentation once more. Brief flourishes as the voice makes a little journey. The choir returns, repeating phrase like a chant, and another voice comes in, and they all seem to waft around, move like something vague, slowly moving, moving with the air, moving with the space. Moving around and curling around, moving inward, coming closer, before all comes to a close at the song’s end.