Courtney Bell (Van Cleef)- Cellist and Teacher in Saint Paul/Minneapolis, MN

*DISCLAIMER: I did not include my bibliography nor are my sources cited in this online posting! Although I organized the research in a cohesive manner, the information presented is not all my original work and should be reviewed with educational purposes in mind.

     Several lifetimes of research would not be enough to cover the history of Russia’s rich music culture. In part, the process is complicated by the many ethnic groups that fall or have fallen at some point under the umbrella of Russian borders and/or occupation. It can be easy to immediately consider only the cultural history of Muscovites; however, this way of thinking ignores the millions of ethnic Russians in all directions beyond the capitol. Furthermore, there are regions beyond current border lines whose inhabitants represent cultures forever changed by soviet influence. One such region includes the Tatars (an ethnic group extending from Tatarstan in the Volga region of the Russian Federation to the bordering country of Kazakhstan) and the Kyrgyz (most of who currently reside in the neighboring Kyrgyz Republic). Together the Tatars and the Kyrgyz stand as a unique bridge between eastern and western music traditions. In many ways, including a largely pentatonic tonality, eastern style instruments, and Islamic religious influences, the music is firmly rooted in the ways of central Asian life; however, evidence of the consequences of Soviet occupancy , for example the appearance of “modifications” to otherwise ancient instruments, suggest a nod to the west. This paper aims to take a focused look at the musical practices that define the Tatar and Kyrgyz people.

     Before delving into the specifics of Tatar and Kyrgyz music, it is sensible to address the forces of time and Russian contact. Although the Kyrgyz were somewhat included in the Russian empire at the end of the 19^th century and later became a full republic of the Soviet Union in the early 1930s, Kyrgystan is farther removed from Russian culture and influence is more subtle. More widespread Russian influence is naturally found in Tatar music as even today a significant portion of the Tatar ethnic group live within the Russian Federation’s borders. Craig Macrae writes in his review of the Luman Seidjalilov: Legend of Crimean Tatar Music recording, “Russian influence dominates the instrumental aspect of performance [including] the violin and accordion accompaniment, the ubiquitous minor key, and the nostalgic mood”. In regions on the fringe of the Moslem centers of the Tatars, for example the Tatar-Mishars living in Russia’s Volga area (also referred to as Volga Tatars), we see genres such as wedding songs. Ceremonial songs were not acceptable per Islamic law and thus one is left to conclude that they are only found in Russia where Eastern Orthodoxy is the more common religion. Kazakh musicologist M. Nigmedzianov is careful to make the distinction that although the more ancient music of the Kazakh Tatars is closer to the heritage of the Tatar-Mishars “young people choose to ignore it” suggesting that the more modern generation of Tatars within Russia are moving further away from the bonds of tradition. Despite the seemingly overwhelming Russian presence, researchers generally agree that in reality ancient traditions continue to dominate the music traditions of Tatar peoples. László Vikár in his paper on Tatar Folksongs observes that “around the mid-Volga region, the predominant ethnicity is the Kazakh Tartars” and that “this influence has always remained stronger than that of the Russians who found the Soviet state”. An immensely positive byproduct of Russian contact was the encouragement of written records of music previously kept alive only through oral passing from generation to generation. For example, the “Traditional music and musical instruments of the Kyrgyz” website credits Russia by saying that “it was only when [the Kyrgyz] came into the Russian sphere of influence that their traditional music was written down in any form, let alone in musical notation”.

          The simultaneously eastern and western features of the instruments seem to support the theory that the Kyrgyz and Tatar region’s central place in Asia effectively makes it a bridge between the two worlds. A few examples of string instruments include the Komuz (also called a “Chertek” meaning “striking) and the Kul Kyiak. The Komuz, played by a musician called a Komuzchu, is similar to a lute in that it is played horizontally and is plucked. The instrument is made from apricot wood and only three strings. The Komuzchu is usually sitting, but he can be standing.  The online Encyclopaedia of Britannia makes the special distinction of the Komuz as the instrument of choice in the development of rare polyphonic tunes called “Kernel Tunes”. The Komuz goes by several different names in other central Asian cultures, for example the Kazakh Tatars refer to this instrument as a Dombyra.

     The Kul Kyiak is a bowed string instrument with two strings made of horsehair and a “jaa” or bow made of Tabylay (a thick mountain plant) and also strung with horse hair. This instrument has a close relative to the Kobyz played by the Kazakh Tatars. The uses of horse parts in string instruments of the Kyrgz and Tatar alike seem to reflect a closeness of the equestrian focused Central Asian cultures. The bow is typically cupped from below. Modern Kul Kyiak and Kobyz instruments typically use four metal strings, likely in attempt to more closely relate to the western violin. These modifications appear around the 1930s during Soviet occupation by Russia. Vikár suggests that the introduction of four strings by the Russians is likely the cause for the prevalence in Tatar songs shifting a repeated line to the lower fifth. As he puts it “it is easier and more natural for the singer to repeat a line on the lower fourth than the lower fifth.

     One must be careful not to confuse the Kobyz with the traditional Tatar instrument, Kubyz.  The Kubyz, in contrast, is a reed-and-plucked instrument commonly referred to as a “jew’s harp”.  It is a small instrument with a lyre-shaped frame that is held between the teeth and a projecting steel tongue that is plucked to produce a twang. Contrary to early research, the Kubyz is not an idiophone as it requires use of the performers “performer’s respiratory and articulatory organs”.

     The Asa-tayak is an idiophone instrument that essentially comprises of a stick with various metal, animal bone, and fabric attachments. Unsurprisingly, these attachments are assembled with horse-hair, once more reminding researchers of these central Asian equestrian cultures. It is meant to be struck against the floor in order to generate noise.  Although the Asa-tayak is found amongst the Tatar and Kyrgyz alike, the shamanic connotations make it far less common in the more heavily Islamic influenced Kazakh Tatar region. Often it is abandoned in favor of the Kobyz or percussion instrument.

     The Kernei is a wind instrument specifically identified with the Kyrgyz as an instrument that announces the arrival and departure of official peoples (rulers of militaries). There are two types of Kernei including the Jez Kernei (made from brass) and the Muyuz Kernei (made from mountain goat horn).  Kernei are unique in that they have remained unchanged from their original form. Although the spellings vary, creating confusion in research, the Kyrgyz and the Tartar share many wind instruments in common. Most of these instruments are a kind of flute that belongs to the Choor instrument family. The Bashkir-Tatar Kurai, a five- holed example of a Choor, is particularly conducive towards a pentatonic tonality as the five fingers make it possible to play two types of pentatonic scales. The notes in both scales combined spell out a major hexachord.

     Tatars and Kyrgyz music cultures both boast of Akyns, or master improvisers, that resemble the European model of a minstrel. Akyns are most typically known for competing in Aytish during which two Akyns will accompany themselves on a Komuz (or Dombyra amongst Kazakhs) and duel in sung verse, each bouncing off the other’s words and ideas in rhythmic singing, chanting and exclaiming. A special kind of Kyrgyz Akyn called a Manaschi is tasked with the purpose of relaying the story Manas, the epic hero central to the culture of Kyrgyz peoples.  Although women Manaschi are rare, they are not unheard of.

     Yet another special kind of performer is the Kazakh Tatar Kuishi or the analogous Küü performer in Kyrgyz music tradition, who perform programmatic instrumental works called Kui (or küü) on the Dombyra (or Komuz).  The Kui is approximately two minutes in duration and composed by the Kuishi himself. Although lyrics are not provided, it is widely accepted that the story line for each Kui are typically “so well known to the audience as to need no announcement or specially provided for listeners by the performer through a verbal introduction”. In addition to storyteller, Kui performers would also assume the role of entertainer by performing tricks such as playing the instrument in unconventional manner (over the shoulder, between the knees, etc.).

     Vikár carefully denotes certain tonal and features that appear unilaterally across all genres of Tatar songs.  Like the Kyrgyz songs, the overwhelming majority of Tatar songs are pentatonic with a mere ten percent instead falling into the sol-la-do-re or la-do-re-mi tetratony. Very few songs end on Re but when they do, they typically imply a closing Sol. Interestingly, the Re and Sol pentatonic scales are related in that both are without 3rds. Additionally while the Re and Sol pentatonic scales are considered by Mongolian folk researchers to be “truly ancient”, the Do and La pentatonic scales that do contain thirds are thought to have only evolved from western influence. Although large intervallic leaps are rare, when they do appear in the form of 6ths or 7ths, grace notes are placed between the notes in a way that aid the leap without “coagulating into glides”. A byproduct of pentatonic tonality, 4ths and 2nds are far more common than the strings of 2nds and 3rds observed in western major minor modes.

     The primary song genre of the Tatars is the lyric-epic song called ozyn koi (also spelled uzun koj). Ozyn koi follow the traditional monophonic form without instrumental accompaniment. Even the addition of a choir is prohibited. They are typically without leaping intervals although they are often highly embellished with melismatic ornaments and rhythmic freedom. The Great Soviet Encyclopedia further defines the Ozyn Koi as having variable meter and asymmetric structure. Ozny Koi, sometimes referred to as the lyric protracted song, retain such extravagant freedom that Nigmedzianov notes performances between singers in the same village share “merely the same outlines of melody and rhythm while the words remain completely identical”.  Vikár notes the necessity of a mature male voice in singing the Ozyn Koi. In addition to perfect pitch, and an ability to mold rhythm, the singer must also have an excellent memory in order to finish the entirety of the text. Vikár provides only one example of relatively short ozyn koi, “Kara Urman” (black bear), which would typically be sung by a woman. The words themselves are typically solemn and serious as they often speak of great persons and events of the past.

     In contrast, the kyska koi (also spelled Kiska Koj) are generally shorter, light-hearted, dance songs with set metrical and rhythmic organization, absence of ornamentation, and a quadratic structure.  Vikár notes that the syllables typically number 7-12 per line. He also makes the distinction that Tatars themselves are unclear how to classify Kyska Koi in relation to the Ozyn Koi from which they typically transition. Interestingly, the The Great Soviet Encyclopedia, tries to make the claim that Takmaki (or in Russian, Chastushka) are a subgenre of Kyska Koi due to their funny, jubilant nature. Vikár, however, aligns what he calls “tak-mak” with the song genre “Baet” because “both feature text in the first place and the role of simple melodies is secondary”.

     Baet (also spelled Bait) belong to the next largest genre of Tatar songs, the Baity. They tell the stories of old men, thus it is no surprise that the words are the main feature. Four lines per strophe feature 7-8 syllables with each syllable containing no more than a single melody note. As previously alluded, these songs are typically sung by old men who Vikár observes “can convey events of the past most authentically”. Nigmedzianov adds that the Baity are typically written in a structure of arioso-recitativo. He also makes an intriguing distinction between Volga Tatar and Kazakh Tatar baity by noting that the Volga Tatar tendency to lyricize poetic images within the baet suggests a sort of unique blend between baity and the lyric protracted song, or ozyn koi.

     The other main genre of Kyrgyz song, separate from the songs of the Akyn, is the ïr. Beyond that a “striking features of Kyrgyz vocal music is the ability of its finest exponents to sustain notes at full volume for a seemingly superhuman duration”, there regrettably seems to be little or no further accessible research on this particular genre. Based on similarities in instruments utilized and close proximity to the Tatar region, the ïr genre has a high probability of at least featuring elements of the discussed Tatar genres.

     The Tatars and Kyrgyz represent only a fraction of Russian touched central Asian music and are undoubtedly linked to those cultures beyond the scope of research presented here (for example, the cultures of Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, etc.).  Furthermore, the uneven nature of readily available research in favor of the Tatars over the Kyrgyz portrays an inaccurate deficiency of Kyrgyz traditional music.  Fortunately there appears to be an ongoing movement to create more written records.  What makes the people of central Asia so peculiar and important in the history of our world is their special seat between the western reaching Russia and the east. Russian Imperialism and Soviet Occupancy in many ways disrupted the traditions of the Tatars and Kyrgyz and yet they also created a rare specimen culture that permanently falls somewhere between two otherwise separate worlds.

*DISCLAIMER: I did not include my bibliography nor are my sources cited in this online posting! Although I organized the research in a cohesive manner, the information presented is not all my original work and should be reviewed with educational purposes in mind.

     Many scholars will have you believe that the history of Russian Music before Glinka is sparse and ultimately insignificant. It is true that the improvisational nature of the Russian people’s folk music does not lend itself to the extensive documentation that we see in Western Europe. Furthermore, the ban on instrumental music in the Byzantium-style Eastern Orthodox Church in many ways retarded the rapid development of an instrumental body of work that would put Russia on the map. It was not until the 19^th century that at last we begin to see the circulation of collected folk songs. Even today, case studies on the music of tribes located around Russia’s vast geography are not easily accessed beyond its borders. Nonetheless, one must recognize the deeply ingrained characteristics in the music of these ancient cultures on the composers that so define the Russian Repertoire. Indeed, the collections of songs compiled by Balakirev, Tchaikovsky, and Stravinsky, not to mention the countless references in music of Soviet composers such as Shostakovich, all owe to a deep respect of the music of the people. This essay aims to explore the theoretical techniques that characterize early Russian music. In order to comprehensibly cover the most important spheres in this genre, we will explore the folk song traditions of western Russia, observe the traditions of the Nenet people as a sample of Siberian traditions, and identify traditions in Russian liturgical music.

     The largest a most diverse body of early Russian music is found in folk songs. These include but are of course not limited to byliny (heroic songs written of a type of Russian warrior, known as a bogatyr), historical songs, ritual songs, wedding songs, bytovye songs (written about Russian daily life), and lyrical songs. The songs were a part of everyday life to the peasants and are thus treated with a sort of reverence and seriousness. For example, instrumental accompaniments is simply not present as the Russians associate instruments with “light-hearted revelry” and consider them to be inappropriate in the context of the song. Furthermore, women are the primary vocalists to sing these songs.

     Rhythmically, Russian music rarely conforms to a western style formation and thus bar lines serve little purpose. Whereas in a western country, the syncopation of the Bohemians or the rattle of the castanets in the Spanish fandango have become easily identifiable as distinctly belonging to these countries, the closest we come to a “Russian” rhythm lies in a vigorous three accented pattern found in a pliassovyia (dance song). In line with the treatment of songs as serious, it is not surprising that Russian dance songs are not particularly significant to the culture. In classifying the various types of Folk songs, scholar Emily Ahrens also notes the Bytovye as another type of dancing song with strong accents on the final beat and clearly expressed rhythms.

     Harmonically, most scholars agree on the Russian folk songs being largely diatonic. In relation to choices of progression by the various voices, music historian Alfred Swan goes so far as to say that non-diatonic half-steps are utterly alien to the peasant vocalist. However, there are multiple arguments as to how exactly the music should be analyzed. Ahrens utilizes the Tinctoris treatise, De Natura et Propretate Tonorum in its discussion of the three types of diatessarons and the four types of diapentes, to explain the various pitches. Example 1 (Example 1) provides a staff representation of the various diatessarons that divide the octave by a fourth and the diapentes that divide the octave by a fifth, conveniently labeling them A-G. Simply put, the diapentes and diatesserons together form the scales observed. If we look at Example 2 (Example 2) we see that all pitches included are E, F#, G, A, B, C, and D range is from E4 to E5. Although the song begins in G and the “key signature” provided by the editor, Tchaikovsky, suggests G major, the fact that the piece ends on E suggests a different tonality. This is consistent with the Russian ideal of “peremennost” (or, mixing of tones) and its consequences stand at the crux of analytical debate. Using the ideas of Ahrens we can build a scale using all pitches by combining Diapentes D and Diatesseron B. This is considered authentic form as the scale divides the octave into a fifth on bottom and a fourth above with the first note of the octave as final and the fifth above the final as dominant.

     Swan’s approach to analyzing the folk songs uses the traditional church modes but accounts for the seemingly undulating major and minor tonal centers by speaking about “semi-chromes” where notes of the chromatic scale crop up in the course of the melody, but not successively. He proceeds to choose examples where he finds what he considers to belong to a specific mode, and then comments on distinct Russian treatments of these particular modes. For example (Example 3) in this excerpt we see what appears to be a portion of the song in a natural minor (Aeolian mode). Swan notes the Russian tendency in this particular mode to place emphasis on the VII degree, in effect implying a harmonization by a major chord. True to form, the excerpt ends on a G, and in the preceding measure a G major chord is clearly outlined. This supports Swan’s observation of the VII and its treatment in Aeolian form. Had we used Ahrens’ analysis method, we might have noted instead the G4-G5 range and then have chosen to combine Diapente G and Diatesseron A to account for all notes in the example (Example 1).

     Additionally, there are distinctions to be found in the way that voices enter and harmonize. As previously mentioned, the songs were generally performed by women and thus we will often observe a solid middle range of pitches. Often a “precentor” or soloist will begin singing and complete a period of varying lengths. She will then be joined by a mixed choir that will, without fail, enter all at the same time and remain until the end of the song. Consistent with the mistrust of Russians for a regular or predictable beat pattern, the choir may not join the soloist on a strong beat and indeed could enter on what Swan describes to be a passing tone.

     One example of a Siberian music tradition is that of the Nenet peoples. Nenets inhabit western Siberia between the Kanin Peninsula in the White Sea and the mouth of the River Yenisev. The population is small, only totaling in approximately 30,000 people, and is divided between the tundra (thus the term “Tundra Nenets”) and the taiga (“Forest Nenets”). The Nenet are largely herders of reindeer and as is common in such cultures their religion centers on rituals enacted by a village Shaman. An example of Shamanism affecting rhythmic tradition is frequent use of a Manchu-like “three-accented pattern” (Example 4), thought to bring good luck and fortune. The hierarchy of the Shaman and the central position males have in Nenet society account for the distinct difference from western Russian music tradition of women leading the songs. This may also account for the low timbre of notes in recorded songs.

     Nenet music is circumpolar in style and based on a trinity of singing sound, speech-like sound, and imitative sound. In Nenet music, the meaning of the text is of greatest importance in the song. In an interview with Juri Vella, a forest Nenet from Khanty Mansi Autonomous Region of western Siberia, he specifically notes that a singer may repeat a line that he feels the audience did not understand the first time. The singer will try to provide an explanation in the melody, thus the melody is retained but not in the same way as the first time. This, however, does not account for all rhythmic deviation in a melody. In Example 5 (Example 5) an examination of the text in line 7 does nothing to further explain the previous lines, yet it has a recitative melody and is performed ad libitum.  In cases of melodies recited by Shamans as magical formulas, the songs adopt an entirely speech-like sound, imitating speech intonation.

     The focus on the text leads to many rhythmic peculiarities, for example the text will often not line up with the melody. To this end, melodies can be placed in two categories. In the first category, a phrase is repeated without change and the melody is considered an equal-length composition. In the second category, the length of the melody changes each time based on the text. Vella comments that at times a message takes up more space than one line, causing the singer to “violate rhythm and speak in a hurry”.

     Conversely, the text may be shorter than the melody and thus meaningless syllables are added. In Example 5 (Example 5), Line 2: kogda-to v proshedshchem vremeni nga nej translates to “Once upon a time nga neij” with “nga neij” acting as filler syllables. Meaningless syllables can also be greatly useful in joining 2 lines so that the song is rendered as one uninterrupted sentence. This technique is linked to Shamanistic songs as ritual dictates that interrupted singing can prevent a message from reaching the spirits.

     There are also instances where the text continues past the end of one melodic line and into the next. The point of this practice is meant to encourage a sense of continuity. In Example 6 (Example 6), the word wyek-lhaho is broken between lines 1 and 2. A technical practice that supports this call for continuity lies in breathing. Vella comments that Europeans breathe when a line ends, but Nenets breathe at random places so that breathing does not mean anything”. Ojamaa claims this is only part of the truth as there are in fact cases in European art songs where the vocalist breathes in a place other than the end of a sentence, just as there are places where Nenet breathing is not arbitrary.

     A final but nonetheless important section of traditional music can be found in that of the Russian Chant and its place in the Eastern Orthodox Church. This genre for a variety of reasons including an archaic notational system also remains the most elusive in terms of proper analysis. As stated by Schidlovsky, one discovers that “what might be called a “theory” of the music has to do primarily with questions of notation”.

     Russian Orthodoxy arrived in Constantinople during the reign of Prince Vadimir of Kiev in the 10^th century. Its point of origin makes it not surprising that the theory and notation of early chants were strongly influenced by Greek theory. Specifically the middle Byzantine notation classified as the Coislin System was used for notation, characterized by tonal range symbols, strokes, and special black symbols to indicate inflections of the neumes. This Russian kind of neumatic chant was thusly termed znammeny, from the word znamia, meaning sign or neume. The earliest readable chants to be found come from the 12^th century. Unlike western chants based on scales, these early manuscripts of Byzantine psalmody and hymnody suggest an organization by a system of eight church modes (echoi) referred to as the Octoe­chos. The chants appear to be diatonic and unison. In Swan’s example of the liturgical scale (Example 7), we find the pitches F, G, A, B-flat, C, D, E-flat, F, G, A-flat, C. This means that in the lower octave there is a major triad F, A, C and in the upper octave we have a minor triad F, A-flat, C existing within the same scale. Swan’s point is that this is a commonality in folk songs and thus implies a link between the two genres. Unfortunately, the majority of these earliest texts no longer exist, most likely as the result of war and invasion of the tartars.

     By the 15^th century, a ravaged Kiev had sharply declined as a Russian cultural center and Moscow was on the rise. During the reign of Ivan the Terrible from 1533 to his death in 1584 we begin to finally see manuals called azbuki that explain the neumatic system. Azbuka developed in scope to include not only short verbal descriptions, but also the “razvody”, or explanations of the more complex notation through the use of equivalent, simpler signs. In the early 17^th century, Ivan Shaidurov, a west educated monk familiar with Renaissance music of Western Europe, clarified znamenny manuscripts by introducing two improvements. The first of these changes included a codified scale system of the Great Russian Znamenny Chant by firmly establishing the number of pitches in the scale as twelve. He also introduced a system of red marks to accompany the black neumes as an indication of pitch, qualitative and qualitative inflections of the neumes. These red marks create a sort of “ladder”, beginning with a bottom rung of three pitches including Low UT, Low RE, and Low MI, a middle rung of six pitches including UT, RE, MI, FA, SOL, LyA, and a high rung of three pitches including High FA, High SOL, and High LyA. If we give pitch names to these syllables we are left with C-flat, D-flat, E-flat, C, D, E, F, G, A, F-sharp, G-sharp, A-sharp, confirming that the twelve pitches create a complete chromatic scale despite a missing TI (covered by C-flat).

      The last significant reforms of the Russian chants appear around the 1660’s under the direction of Patriarch Nikon in his quest to reform the Orthodox Church. A third group of Symbols, Auxiliary Pitch Marks, were added to clarify the pitches with their tonal range signs. Nikolai Diletsky’s Musical Grammar, published in this era, not only helped explain these reformations but also encouraged western style polyphony (including clear tonic-dominant harmonic relationship). The reign of Peter the Great further brought an influx of French, Italian and German influences that obscured the techniques of the Russian tradition. On the subject of church music written during this time, Razumovsky notes that “not one of these works proved to be perfect and edifying in a church sense, because in each work the music predominates over the text, most often not at all expressing its meaning”. In the context of a culture that for hundreds of years did not allow instrumental accompaniment for concern that it takes away from the meaning of the words, this practice is in major conflict with the original traditions.

     Uncovering the theory that is so deeply rooted in passed down traditions, compounded by sizable holes in the documentation of the earliest Russian music, is no doubt a challenge for modern scholars. The various collections of songs and the conflicting manner in which their notation is treated is a testament to the unique quality of the Russian song and its ill-fitting nature when explained with the much more easily accessible western theory. For scholars who seek to understand what makes the music of Glinka and beyond distinctly special, it is absolutely necessary and in fact exciting to dig deeper for more knowledge about how the people of Russia structured their own music theory. There is still a copious amount of research to be done, but studies on sub-cultures like the ones conducted of the Nenet people may be the key to finding the answers. Meanwhile, an effort by the Russians themselves to preserve their culture in performance and church keeps the repertoire in sight and encourages more study by musicophiles and musicologists alike. Perhaps in time, we will see a picture clear as that of music theory in Western Europe.

*I did not include my bibliography nor are my sources cited in this online posting!

Despite Russia’s rich musical life (demonstrated in the volumes of folk-songs that date back hundreds of years), Russia is a country whose music history is largely abandoned before the 18th century. In fairness, the separation between the Roman Catholic Church and the Russian adopted Eastern Orthodox Church can be largely to blame for the gap in time before Russian music arrived on the western radar. Unlike the extensive rise of the Mass that catapulted change in Europe, the Eastern Orthodox Church imposed strict restrictions on its music rituals, thus thwarting development such as the kind observed in the west. Towards the end of the 18th century, however, Russia began to see great changes in its political atmosphere. The Tsars, particularly Tsarist Catherine the Great, suddenly adopted a sincere interested in the affairs of their European neighbors. The opening up of this previously isolationist society naturally led to a demand for western art and all its modern trappings in opera, dance, and instrumental music. Under these circumstances, it was to be that Russian music would finally escape obscurity and eventually (in the 19th century) begin its own historically significant developments as a unique nation. Success was mainly achieved through the prevailing musical movement of the time, “nationalism”. This paper aims to examine the events of late 18th century and 19th century Russian music history, including its historical context, the construction of a new music society, and the rise of Russia’s first significant composer (in western terms) Mikhail Glinka.
In order to understand Russian composers of the 18th and early 19th centuries, the “romantic era” in terms of music, one must first understand what was happening in the surrounding world at the time.
Following the Napoleonic wars, Europe (including Russia) became a region of great instability due to its disruption of previously established borders. In order to assist in the reduction of tensions, the leaders of all the major states of the time convened to Vienna for the Congress of Vienna (1814-1815).
The goals of the Congress of Vienna were to mainly restore the status quo of powers before 1792 without punishing France. This was in order to prevent revenge and hostility from the French people. The main powers to convene included Britain, Austria, Prussia, Russia, and later France. Although the meeting did accomplish its immediate goals to scale back France’s conquests and return to its 1792 borders, it tragically failed to address the cultural borders of the individual states. For example, Russia’s prized acquisition as a result of the meeting included the Duchy of Poland, regardless of Poland’s clear cultural distinction from Russia. Such violations prompted an attitude of rebellion by the people that would ultimately lead to World War 1.
The important consequences of these tensions in art were the rise of nationalism. The basic sentiment was that a citizen owed his/her loyalties to his/her nation before government, creed, dynasty, etc. In music the folk music was considered higher than all other national music as it is most closely related to the people. An important thing to note is that while the beginning of the nationalist movement began as people who identified themselves as citizens of a larger world, it later turned into a much more aggressive and almost competitive attitude of people aligning themselves with specific identities. Also important to mention is that although nationalism in theory refers to all classes of people within a society, the movement was entirely a movement of the bourgeois in order to establish their patriotism. Although nationalism affected different regions in different ways, Russia is unique in that its revolution during the 19th century failed to displace the Tsar and lead to democracy. The music lends itself to more themes of monarchy and the other popular practice of nationalism including exoticism. In reference to the Tsar’s power over nations in central Asia, many Russian composers wrote their music
with exotic Asiatic themes that distinguish their works as uniquely Russian.
As many of the Romantic composers turned to folk music as a center piece of their compositions, it became necessary that the music change to accommodate the flavor to such old tunes. Since folk music is largely monodic and does not fit cleanly into the harmonic structures defined during the classical era, composers were forced to explore new tonalities and move away from the traditions that had dominated in Italy, France, and Germany, for centuries. For example, most Russian folk music contains a dubious tonic and employs generous amounts of parallel 5ths, octaves, and other dissonant parallel intervals. Whereas music previously imitated earlier works, and borrowed from previous success, it was now considered inauthentic to engage in such practices and composers were pressured to conceive of entirely new and unique ideas. As previously mentioned, the nationalist movement was largely identified by the more educated bourgeois and ironically, its authenticity and folk characteristics were generally lost on the less sophisticated audiences from which they supposedly drew their inspiration.
Specifically, the Russian nationalist music began the process of unearthing its roots in its first printed collection of Russian folk songs by Chulkov. With appearances of his work beginning to appear from 1770-1774 under the title of “Sobraine Raznukh Pesen”, the entirety of Chuklov’s collection was organized in four volumes. Unfortunately, however, the collection was primitive and made little to no attempt in dividing the mass of folk songs by genre. Nonetheless, the 800 pages of text containing over 400 peasant songs either from existing manuscripts or indeed written out by Chuklov himself, established a pattern for future Russian folk-song collections into the 19th century. Finally a more organized and systematic collection was realized in the “Collection of Russian Folk Songs” assembled by Nikolai Lvov and written out by Ivan Prach in 1790. Unlike the collection of Chuklov, the Lvov-Prach collections was perhaps the first collection to extensively divide and classify folk songs into the categories “protracted songs, dance songs, wedding songs, Khorovods, Christmas carols, and Ukranian songs”. Main contributions of this anthology also demonstrate features of the peasant chant including “shifting tones and uneven rhythms that would become prominent features of Russian musical style from Mussorgsky to Stravinsky”; however, the songs are adapted to western musical traditions in order to be more pleasing to the ears of Russia’s “piano-owning classes”. “Despite its inaccuracy, Lvov-Prach’s work provides many important insights into transcription methods, classification criteria, and theories that explain what exactly separates Russian music from its western counterparts”. As a result many of the “original folk tunes” used in nationalistic repertory are taken from the Lvov-Prach collection. In essence it paved the way for more skilled arrangers (for example, Balakirev and Rimsky- Korsakov) to revive their rich musical heritage.
Before diving into the significant literature of the 19th century, it is necessary to examine one more significant historical development, the appearance of Italian Opera from 1731 and onward. Like all Russian music, once again the tradition dates back to encounters with the all-encompassing western art of opera, derived from Italy. In 1736, St. Petersburg was presented her first fully staged production of Francesco Araja’s “The Power of Love and Hate”. The theatrics combined with the western musical style that was becoming increasingly popular in Russia dazzled its audience with its grandness. The opera was naturally sung its original Italian. It was not until 1755 that an opera was finally translated to the Russian mother tongue and acted out by young Russian native performers. The first opera “Cephalus and Procris”, translated by Sumarkov, was merely rearranged by its original Italian composer, Araja, and thus failed to change fundamentally to include Russian national themes to match its changed Russian libretto. Well into the 18th century, Russian opera continued to be written by foreign composers, though in in the last year folk elements finally began to appear in the material. Seaman reports that “of about 100 operas written in the course of the last years of the 18th century, 30 survived 15 of which make use of Russian or Ukrainian Folk music”. More specifically these operas employ a total of about “55 clearly identifiable folksongs”. Evidence suggests that the first Russian
opera written by a native composer on a native topic was “Anyuta”. Musicologists speculate that a man by the name of Pashkevich composed the opera, though the music itself is tragically lost and thus it is difficult to determine definitively. Important to note, despite all attempts to produce authentically Russian opera of high quality, efforts were largely hindered by a lack of trained native musicians capable of delivering technically challenging performances.
Perhaps more notable include the accomplishments in Russian opera by Catterino Cavos. In the beginning of his career Cavos was enthusiastically dedicated to promoting Russian opera’s with Russian subjects. This evidenced in his first opera in his “early national opera, “The Invisible Prince” (1805)”. Such a work, however, pales in comparison to the success of his opera “Ivan Susanin” and is the only one of his opera to clearly employ Russian folk music. This particular opera is not only important in that it tells the patriotic story of a Russian man who offers his life for the sake of his Tsar, but also it would later be virtually the same plot Glinka uses for his first operatic masterpiece “A Life for a Tsar”.
The death of Empress Catherine II marks the next significant transition between the 18th century and 19th century. Under the reign on Paul I, the next Tsar, the citizens of St. Petersburg were suddenly placed under a series of strict new laws intended to “curb the moral laxity of the Russian population”. As a result art and the fledgling attempts at Russian opera came effectively to a halt due to censorship and the reduction of private ensembles. In 1801, Paul I was assassinated and rule was passed to the much more liberal Tsar Alexander. His appreciation for art and literature proved a much more nurturing environment for development in Russia and new works in all forms of art began to appear at increasing speed with “marked national coloring”. Unfortunately, it was not long before Alexander also made himself unpopular among his people and political organizations began to prepare a reaction. Ultimately the tensions led to the Decembrist risings of 1825. Despite the inevitable suppression of these rebellions by Tsar Nicholas I, the effects on artists were represented in contemplation of issues including “suppression, the world of bureaucracy, the growth of merchant middle classes, and the desire for reform and the abolition of serfdom”. These ideas resulted in a realism that dominated the Russian art for the duration of the 19th century.
With the inspiration and the expanding ideas of realism and nationalism it fast became necessary for music education institutions to train Russian musicians. Music schools were based almost exclusively in St. Petersburg and Moscow, as were the large theaters and concert performance series. Foreign teachers continued to be brought into Russia’s borders and in fact made up the majority of the faculty. According to Seaman, among these visitors were such names as “Clara Schumann, Liszt, and later Hummel (a man who had considerable influence on the development of Glinka)”. Many of the greatest musicians in the world indeed moved to Russia permanently or for large periods of their career in anticipation of Russia’s growing potential. Important pedagogues include John Field who was largely responsible for his creation of a new school of piano playing in Moscow. Again, his music would go on to have great influence on the music of Glinka.
Between Moscow and St. Petersburg it can be fairly argued that St. Petersburg was the larger of the two music spheres in Russia. To begin St. Petersburg in during the 19th century represented the capital of the country and thus had front row seats to exposure from the west via the Tsar. Ridenour sums up the political climate by stating that “as with virtually all public activities in Tsarist Russia, the dominate force directing all activity was the government, in this case the Imperial Theater Directorate”. This department controlled two of the largest opera companies in the state, the St. Petersburg ballet and drama theaters, and from afar the Imperial ballet in Moscow. Furthermore, all public performances were to be approved by the department, with the exception of Lent “when the imperial theaters closed and private organizations and individuals could arrange concerts”. The Theater Directorate as a government department had access to large sums of money and was able to ensure that St. Petersburg’s opera company had the best of all stage equipment, producers, and performers in Europe. In 1862, “Giuseppe Verdi was paid 20,000 rubles for a production of his opera “La Forza del Destino” and the leads of the cast purportedly earned 10,000 rubles”. These figures were astronomical for this time. Important to note here is that the Italian opera company in St. Petersburg was considerably more respected than its Russian rival on the other side of town. Ridenour writes that indeed the “while the Italian company occupied the Grand Theater, St. Petersburg’s best Russian Troupe was relegated a building originally constructed for a circus”. Interestingly, the building burned down in 1859 and in 1860 the building was reconstructed as the now famous Mariinsky Theater.
Now that a suitable music environment had been established in Russia, and despite the popular view that Russian produced music was substandard to the west, a few Russian composers began to arrive on the scene. Perhaps the clearest example of the first significant composer is in Mikhail Ivanovich Glinka.
If Pushkin “formulated the Russian Tongue”, Glinka comparably is said to have “formulated the Russian Musical Language”. Glinka primarily is celebrated for his innovations in harmonic and orchestral writing as well as his extensive knowledge of Russian folk music. Born to a retired captain of the Imperial army, Glinka grew up in privilege but also in a village where he was exposed to much folk-song and folk-life. Glinka’s home was also located “near the Smolensk road” and as the scene in 1812 was that “of intense military operations and the invasion of the French”. Observation of such a political scene had a profound effect on young Glinka and instilled in him a great sense of patriotism. He was particularly fond of the serf orchestra directed by his Uncle, Afanasiy Andreevich, and through his encounters with these musicians he first became “acquainted with the European music in the form of opera overtures”. By 1822 Glinka had chosen to devote the entirety of his career to music and he thrived under the advice of famous pedagogue Charles Mayer. Although Glinka had studied Violin in his formative years he himself claimed “Passion for composition decisively distracted me from practice in performance”. In 1823 Glinka spent a brief time in Caucasus and drew inspiration from the Northern Caucasian people, his reflection of which is portrayed “later in his opera Ruslan and Lydmila”. Finally Glinka’s period of exploration culminated in a five year study abroad during which he travelled throughout the great cities of Italy (Milan, Rome, Venice, etc.). The result of this trip drove Glinka to deeply miss his own country. In his memoirs Glinka writes “I did not compose but thought a great deal… I was convinced that I was not following my own path and that sincerely I could not be Italian… I was led constantly to the idea of writing something in Russian”. This excerpt marks a turning point in Glinka’s career when he realizes that in order to fulfill his music career he music find his own distinctively Russian voice.
Upon his return to Russia in 1834, Glinka immediately began work on the masterpiece that would realize his vision for the revival of the Russian music traditions so near to him. He planned to prepare a large-scale national opera on the legend of Ivan Susanin (note this is the same plot as that of Cavos). When the opera was completed in 1836, the opera was indeed conducted by Cavos. Tsar Nicholas I himself took great interest in this opera by Glinka and suggested the title of the work to be changed to “A Life for a Tsar”. It came as little surprise that when the opera premiered on November 27th it was largely a success. As one of Glinka’s critics remarked, “it was a wonderful beginning to the approaching era of Russian music”.
Indeed with the success and continued life of Glinka a new era appeared to be on the horizon for Russia. Following his efforts towards a truly native opera, Glinka ushered in such Russian musical nationalists as the Russian Five and later Tchaikovsky. In conclusion, the period of time from the end of the 18th century and through the mid-19th century represents a transformation of the Russian Music traditions from its obscure roots in folk to a culture that could rival or even surpass those of the west. In a changing world and a changing government it was about time the west began to take notice of their massive eastern neighbor.

*Since I spent so much time on this paper I figured it would be a good idea to post it on the blog. DISCLAIMER: I did not include my bibliography in this blog post nor are the sources cited. Although I compiled the research and wrote it in a cohesive manner, I am not the original author of the information presented.

The History of Early Russian Music
Courtney Van Cleef
Quite unfortunately, Russian music before the 19th century is often overlooked due to its so called lack of development. The truth, however, is that the Russian culture is rich in its music history with ancient pagan and spiritual traditions. Much of these assumptions can be blamed on the fact that many of the early folk songs were not written down until the reign of Catherine the Great in the 18th century but certainly a lack of notation is not equivalent to a lack of material. Furthermore the rise of the Orthodox church influenced many development in liturgical music practices that are comparable to their western European counterparts. This paper aims to explore Russian music history from its origins and throughout its medieval times.
In its early history there is much evidence that Russians employed music in many of their day to day activities. The Obryadovye, or ritual songs were full of symbolism that imitated work. Ritual songs that represented the harvest were called Zazhynky and ritual songs that celebrated the completion of the work were referred to as Obzhynky. The idea was that if music simulated work tasks such as reaping and sowing it would “promote productivity”. Women would commonly join in singing together when they met to spin in the winter.
Young people especially enjoyed performing Khorovod or dance songs. Such songs would be entirely vocal and would cover tales of romance between royalty. People of all ages were also fond of singing Starina meaning “what is old”. These epic songs would tell the achievements of heroes real and fictional. This form of song was a lasting tradition and when Moscow became the center of Russian culture by the 16th century, many Starina were rewritten to include figures in the big city. In the 1830’s the Starina was given a new name, Bylini, meaning “what has happened”; however, peasants continued to call it by it’s old name.
Games and songs of all kinds varied with the seasons. For example, in the spring “dance songs often featured pastoral deities like “Did Lado and Lei”. Vesnjanki, another kind of spring song, was sung to call the birds back from their migration. Haivky represented songs in the form of a game that was commonly played in the spring. In the winter, a particularly interesting tradition is that of the Kolyada. Much like Christmas caroling, bands of young people would go from household to household on the winter solstice and ask to sing their Kolyada songs. The songs would be a narrative, first telling the story of them finding the home, then offering the family blessings, and finally asking for food. Depending on the quality of the food singers would then continue to either praise the family for their generosity or “give comic abuse and promise misfortune.”
Russian peasants were superstitious and once again music played an important role in their various traditions. Fortune telling songs called Podbliudnyia (“under the plate songs”) were sung on New Year’s day by women. The women would place their rings in a bowl of water that was concealed with a plate and then sing a song with themes ranging from marriage to death. A ring would then be selected at random and the owner of the ring would have the fortune of whatever song had just been sung.
An important characteristic to notice in early Russian music is its use of heterophony. Heterophonic music is a type of polyphony where two or more performers produce essentially the same melody with slight modifications on the parts. Heterophony suits Russian music in that the rules that govern its form are vague and allow for the performers to have some freedom to choose interesting tonalities without making any one voice more prominent than another. There would however be a leader singer called a Sapevala. The Sapevela would start the piece by singing the melody as a solo, thus directing the general course of the music. The rest of the ensemble would then join in, splitting suddenly into separate parts that eventually converge into a unison ending. Concerning tonality, most Russian folk music contains a dubious tonic and the performers were never queasy when it came to employing parallel 5ths, octaves, and other dissonant parallel intervals. The problem with this wide use of heterophony is that its nature makes it difficult to notate, thus contributing to the lack of records of early Russian music.
The fact is that the majority of Russian music was meant only to be vocalized. Very likely, the reason for this lack of music instrumental repertoire was the lack of money to buy musical instruments. Many Russian peasants lived in poverty making vocal music a much more practical way to participate in the art. As a result, many of the old Russian instruments that music historians are aware of are simple in build and can in fact be constructed by the performer. One such instrument is the 2-stringed Domra of oriental descent. It is widely believed that the Domra was delivered to Russia in the 12th or 13th century by Mongolians who were ruling Russia at that time. With a body not unlike the lute, it is either strummed or plucked to produce sound. The Domra would later give rise to the three-stringed Balalaika in the 17th century. The Balalaika is particularity prominent in Russian music history because a brand of street musicians known as, Skomorokhi commonly used it in their performances where they frequently made jokes concerning the Tsar and the Orthodox church; this eventually led the Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich to order a public burning of all instruments under the rather severe penalty of death.
Another popular instrument in traditional Russian music is the Bayan or, more commonly, the button accordion. Before the 19th century the Bayan would be called a Garmonika which derives from its Asian ancestor called the Shen. It is likely that the Garmonika was introduced to the Russians by the mongols in the mongol invasion of the 10th- 13th centuries. Originally it was made with a single row of buttons and large bellows up to two meters long.
Other instruments of old Russia include an array of percussive instruments. For example the Treschyotka is a rattle constructed of wooden slats threaded together on a string. This instrument is played by stretching the string and then constricting the slats together. The Treschyotka would often be used in ceremonial occasions such as weddings. The instrument could be decorated with ribbons and bells to give it a more festive look. Evidence stemming from its construction and use in weddings also points that the Treschyotka may have been believed to play a role in protecting newlyweds from evil spirits. Another percussive instrument whose origins are traced back to the early Slavic people is the Lozhky or musical spoon. The spoons would be made of thick wood with longer handles and a polished surface. Sound was produced by clanging the spoons together and different pitched could be obtained from variations in size. Russians also used their version of the tambourine called the Buben. The Buben was also a popular instrument used by the Skomorokhi.
All Russian wind players were referred to as Svirels which covers a variety of pipe instruments made from hollow reeds and branches. In particular, a double pipe consisting of a whistle and three holes per pipe is recognized to most likely be the traditional Svirel. Although the origins of these instruments are unclear an archeological excavations of the Old Novgorod in 1951-1962 yielded two pipes that suggest they precede the eastern slavic community. One of the pipes dates back to the late 11th century with four finger-holes while the second pipe dates back to the early 15th and has only three holes.
The Gusli is the most ancient of Russian instruments with it’s origins in the sixth century. The Gusli of the 12th century resembled a harp with it’s five strings attached to a long board. The Gusli is played by using a play stick to press down on the open strings. If a string was not to be played, it could be muted with the left hand. Although the Gusli could be played as a solo instrument, it was widely employed as an accompaniment to a song.
Russia throughout history has remained a largely isolationist country. The separation from the rest of Europe dates back to the fall of the Roman Empire. Whereas the western European countries then turned to the Catholic Church, Russia inherited the Byzantine civilization and the practices of the Greek Orthodox Church. At the end of the 10th century when Vladimir I came to power in Kiev he made it his priority to convert his subjects and also to bring in priests along with their choristers. This led to a huge revolution in Russian music; the shift from the old pagan traditions to a world of christian music. In truth, music in the ceremonial part of church began in the Byzantine Empire where vast amounts of poetry were written to be set to music and spice up the liturgy. The Byzantine Chant was almost entirely vocal without instrument accompaniment. It is from the Byzantine chant that the Russian Znamenny chant evolved.
Znamenny chant at its inception was sung in Greek but over several hundred years it eventually was sung entirely in Russian. Znamenny chants were written in Kruik, a musical alphabet derived from Neume notation of its western counterparts; however, there were quite a few differences between the notational systems which makes it difficult for historians to know exactly how the music would sound. The positive is that liturgical music was written at all, making it much more accessible to historians than the unwritten folk songs. Instead of being written in an echoi, Russian tonality in Znamenny chant is based on glassy. Each glas may contain up to 90 melodic patterns that distinguish one glass from another. A glas is less like a mode built on a series of whole and half steps but rather it is more like a set pattern that the people chose to standardize. The rhythm of the Znamenny chant never included eighth notes or lesser value but rather it used whole and half note values to make the text particularly easy to understand.
Unlike the western church, Russian church music forbids the use of any musical instruments including the organ. Only a series of wooden boards called a Semantron could be struck with hammers to produce a percussive rhythmic accompaniment; however the Russians hardly considered the Semantron to be recognized as a musical instrument considering the sound that it makes is not much different from any of the normal sounds of daily life. Furthermore the vocal parts are almost entirely monodic with subtle polyphony only occasionally in the form of a drone.
When the Znamenny chant eventually began to see changes in the form of innovations such as elaborate coloratura passages, the Tsar became distressed that it would lead to corruption of the text. Thus when Ivan III came to power in 1462 a school was erected to train young musicians the proper way to perform liturgical music. These young men (women were not yet eligible for school) were known as “The Tsar’s Singing Deacons” and their primary role was to prepare and perform the Divine Liturgy at the Imperial Chapel.
The composers who wrote the Znamenny chants are elusive of identity because generic patterns were given and the performer was expected to use and tailor the patterns appropriately to fit any new words (for glorifying new saints or celebrating other church occasions). Thus the performers can be thought of as the composers too. The first composer of the chants that can be clearly identified by name was the Tsar Ivan VI. During the mid 16th century he is credited with writing two Stichera (collections of more elaborate canticles) at the ripe age of seventeen. Furthermore, the fantastic singers whom he attracted played a key role in identifying classic master in Russian church singing. Now the Gospel Stichera (the morning resurrection hymns) was identified as being composed by the Byzantium Emperor Leo VI in the 10th century. Also the commonly sung Christian chant was connected to the Pope Feodor (surname Christian). Although it is unconfirmed as of yet, the famous musicologist Maxim Brajnikov hypothesizes that Feodor was also responsible for the creation of the Greater Chant and more importantly is responsible for injecting folk song patterns into the liturgical repertoire. This is particularly important because should his theory be valid it could prove that Feodor was also proficient in folk singing and that the arts of folk singing and church singing are more closely related than previously thought.
A curious phenomena during the age of the Znamenny chant is the complete lack of a secular counterpart. Unlike the west which had madrigals and allowed artists to explore music outside the domain of church, the strict policies of the Orthodox church prevented any secular art song form from taking root. The church was especially against the folk songs sung in households that represented the old pagan views. Nevertheless, a strong attachment of the Russian people to their traditional songs at least allowed a class of musicians known as minstrels to continue performing them. Since the clergy were strict on banishing these wandering performers from the big cities, minstrels generally stuck to Russia’s river banks so they could move more easily between smaller towns. The early minstrels were welcomed by the people as a relief to the pressures placed on them by the church. In fact, aristocratic homes would often invite minstrels to perform in their homes on special occasions. Unfortunately the minstrels never achieved a high status in society unlike their counterparts in the west such as the great Troubadours in France. The church eventually managed to root them out almost completely leaving only a few desperate performers who often sang vulgar songs and stole from the villagers
Another refreshing example of bending the strict rules placed on Russian Music was the art of bell ringing highly developed in Novgorod. As previously mentioned instruments were largely forbidden from church ceremonies; however, the practice of casting the brass bells in the city led church leaders to allow bell ringing to be an important part of the church practices in certain large cities. People appreciated the aesthetic differences between the bell and the percussive Semantron. Since the ringing of bells was often used to signal the beginning of church and also certain patterns were recognized to begin various parts of the service, people associated the bells as something positive. The sound of bells meant a pause from the hard labor of their day to day lives.
The so called polyphony of the Znamenny chant began to appear in the 16th century when suddenly as many as four lines of neumes were written per line of text. The debate lies in whether or not all these lines were meant to be sung together simultaneously. A larger half or Russian theorists including Odoyevsky in the year 1867 believed that it out of the question to sing the lines simultaneously. The main argument to support this theory points to the fact that the lines do not seem to have any harmonic relationships and that extensive use of successive parallel fifths and seconds make it nearly impossible to sing. Others including the theorist Smolensky in1888 argued that the seemingly rough harmonizations are simply derived from the heterophonic music of the folk songs. The idea is that Russian music is not governed by the same rules and modes observed by the western church composers such as Palestrina, thus the sound is merely something different that what the western ear is used to.
When studying music history it is often important to take into account the politics that surround the era being covered. For example, unlike the western European countries who left the medieval times and entered into a great renaissance due to vast innovations, Russia was ravaged by the Mongol invasions and thus remained stuck in its dark ages for several more centuries. Old systems of hierarchy with the barbaric levels of serfdom had long left the west but remained in tact in Russia; thus the development of new ways of thinking was often hampered by the Tsars or the powerful leaders of the Eastern Orthodox church. Important to note, however, is that despite the mongol occupation of Russia from the mid-thirteenth century until the 15th century, little about the culture was actually changed in Russia. The mongols only wanted to dominate Russia, not necessarily rule it, thus the Eastern Orthodox Church and its practices were left untouched.
There is no doubt the history of early Russian music is obscure for a variety of reasons. The total lack of written forms of the early folk songs and indeed the heterophonic forms of the music itself makes it difficulty to identify the traditional music of pre-Eastern Orthodox Russia. The situation was little improved when the byzantine church came to power with the use of the archaic Kruik music alphabet that differs enough from the neume notation of the west to cause a fair amount of uncertainty in the performance of Znamenny chant. Furthermore, the tight hold that the Clergy and the Tsar kept on any developments in secular music, instrumental accompaniment, and real polyphony add to the myth that Russian music before the late 18th century was largely negligible; however, through careful research and surviving documents that have been unearthed fairly recently, music historians can factually support that Russia indeed had very unique and specific developments in its music from its origins and through its dark ages. The much appreciated music compositions of Russia’s later centuries may have borrowed many traditions of the western European nations, but its distinctly Russian qualities with origins in the homeland are what separate works of Russian art from those of any other country.