In fact, neither of these are truly representative of the Bulgarian folk tradition - which has its own strengths, as Song of the Crooked Dance makes plain. A pity though that we don't hear Aliev on his 'first' instrument, the gaida, though the picture on the cover does show him with it.
Vocal music is also well represented.
Brody notes that women were not often recorded in the earlier period, since 'open' performance was not considered appropriate. The most unusual piece is Parush Parushev's ballad of the earthquake in Plovdiv in 1928, in which he accompanies himself on harmonium. The translation is slightly reminiscent of William McGonagall, but the music, with Parushev's high and rather reedy voice, is quite affecting. Throughout the disc it is obvious that Bulgarian music is linked not so much to other Slavic musics as to the east - there is a particularly middle eastern sound to Georgi Sugarev with its oud accompaniment. And there is no racial purity in the list of performers, which includes Roma clarinet player Ramadan Lolov, and Ahmed Saliev.