This disc has a particularly touching flavour: aged singers from South Albania in their 60s to 80s celebrate the fading beauty of their local multipart repertoire threatened by the impact of migration, and the disinterest of the younger generation. Somehow the disc is also a statement about the ambiguous role UNESCO plays in Albania, focusing on formally organised and staged multipart practicesshowing considerable neglect in documenting and supporting local grassroot singing practices. A passionate initiative from within the community, led by the Albanian ethnomusicologist Mikaela Minga and her father, was needed to excavate this treasure, sung by the minority of the transhumant community of Aromanians who were predominantly banned from the stage during the socialist period (1944–1991). Any musical practice in a minority language was seen by the regime as a danger to a promoted cultural homogeneity, presenting multipart practices as an element evidencing the nation’s claims for cultural exclusiveness. Vocal practices among the Aromanians instead, as the authors of this compilation argue, remained primarily a domestic affair—preserving local aesthetics and styles.

Even if the drone at time lacks intensity due to the age of the singers, and the lead voice runs out of breath, this disc is of outstanding value as a historical document. There is the fascinating melismatic virtuoso singing style of the Toskëria area in South Albania incarnated by the high-pitched tenor voice of Spiro Gramozi for whom singing, exclamation and communication is one; there is also the slightly more fading beauty of the rough baritone voice of Aleks Mihallari. The seventeen tunes (strangely appearing without track numbers on the album sleeve) celebrate pastoral life and its beauty, love and the sufferings of migration. A particularly strong impression is left by the tragic story of the crashed pilot Vasil Trasha, dramatised in a lamenting song, interrupted by emotional exclamations.

Some inconsistencies in the booklet of this CD, such as the use of “bourdon” instead of the more common term “drone,” are to be ignored if we consider the excellent quality of the recordings that celebrate a vanishing tradition, honouring probably its last representatives.