The Ritual Music of Kolida Babo

High in northern Greece's Epirus region, an abandoned village sits empty, yet its voice echoes through the music of Kolida Babo. The woodwind duo of Sokratis Votskos and HarrisP draws its name from an ancient winter ritual of fire and dance. Their album Spirits Of Mauronoros (Veego Records, 2024) finds inspiration in this remote borderland near Albania, where emptiness and life intertwine.

Between Athens and Aridaia, they blend Armenian duduk melodies with Greek folk traditions, free jazz, and electronic textures. The result maps territory both ancient and modern, expressing Greece's complex history through sound.

"I first encountered this tradition in Aridaia, Socratis's hometown," Harris P. recalls. "Coming from Athens, I had never seen anything like it. While Greece has many traditions combining dancing and music, this was different."

Votskos explains the medieval custom that became their namesake: "'Kolida Babo refers to a carol tradition, specifically the day before the actual carols. People gather to build large fires and dance around them with local music. The name itself has layers —'Babo' means grandmother in the traditional Slavic language that influenced northern Greek dialects. 'Kolida' comes from 'Koliada,' our word for carols."

Their collaboration began the night Harris arrived in Aridaia during these fire rituals. "He came to my home studio, and we recorded our first song, 'Kolida Babo,'" Votskos says.

The Armenian duduk became central to both their music and friendship. "I discovered it through Djivan Gasparyan's collaboration with Michael Brook on Black Rock (Real World Records, 1999)," Harris says. "The sound grabbed me immediately. Living in Greece with its significant Armenian community, this connection felt natural."

Their recording process stays fluid and spontaneous. "We limit ourselves to three takes maximum during improvisations," Harris notes. "Ideas might develop independently on various instruments—synthesizers, baritone saxophones, clarinets—then we combine recordings between our two cities."

Votskos's multi-instrumental approach evolves through improvisation. "Certain combinations emerge organically," he explains. "We might double bass clarinet with soprano clarinet, though it's rarely our starting point. The baritone particularly suits our more dynamic pieces."

The album's centerpiece, "Pangea's Journey," came together differently, recorded during COVID-19 lockdowns. "The concept references Earth's unified prehistoric continent," Harris says. "We arranged it around the gaida, a traditional Greek bagpipe, but interpreted through the duduk—an approach that might surprise traditional Greek musicians."

Mauronoros itself holds special resonance. "The old village sits dramatically on a cliff," Harris describes. "It has remarkable threshing floors —'alonia'—circular stone platforms where grain was once separated from stalks. They're so vast they look like landing sites from above. Its abandonment mirrors broader patterns in Greek history —wars, civil conflicts, rural exodus."

"Our music carries social intention through personal expression," Votskos reflects. "We don't presume to transform society, but our creative approach might resonate with listeners, inspiring changes in their own expression or creativity."

Their work speaks to diverse audiences precisely because it respects traditions while remaining unconstrained by them. As Harris puts it: "We're not trying to create unprecedented combinations or a new genre. Our music simply expresses our emotional landscape through sound, and we particularly value the dialogue."

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