Sometimes the title of this column feels deeply inappropriate to the subject matter I’m covering. Usually, yes, I’m covering punk music and lo-fi and metal — but today, I’m talking about music very close to my heart and to my heritage. I have a complex, multi-faceted heritage – I’ve touched on it a number of times, but on one side of my family, I’m Montreal Ashkenazi Jewish and Trinidad Creole. On the other, although the details will probably always be shrouded in mist, it seems that I’m Romani.

This isn’t an uncommon story. Many Romani people, upon immigrating to places like Canada or the U.S. promptly pretended to be other ethnicities — white, if we could pass as that, or sometimes things like Native American (a friend of mine laboured under this understanding until his twenties), Indian, or Arab. This became especially pertinent after the Holocaust, when anti-Semitism was addressed via the creation of Israel, and Romani people… got nothing. While we’re far from the only forgotten victims of the Holocaust, it’s an oversight that’s been very slow in being addressed outside of specific parts of Europe. Even when folks are aware that Romani people — and particularly the Sinti, the Romani group from and in Germany — were targeted in the Holocaust, the details of our story are forgotten.

That’s what makes this album so powerful. An original composition from the Dallas String Quartet and the brainchild of its founder Ion Zanca, Romani: The Untold Story is a neoclassical EP dedicated to Romani resilience and cultural identity. In this article, Zanca explains how the violin has come to represent the courage of the Romani people.

During the Holocaust, Romani music, especially string instruments, became a means of psychological survival and resistance against the dehumanising conditions they faced. In the ghettos and camps, Romani musicians continued to play […] provid[ing] a semblance of normalcy and humanity, a reminder of their rich cultural heritage in the face of an existential threat. […] In some instances, Romani musicians were coerced into playing for their captors, both in the camps and for Nazi officials. […] I remember my grandfather telling me how they often had to play for drunk officers, pretending they were celebrating with them and hoping none of them would start shooting. 

I usually don’t look at additional materials for an album I’m reviewing, but this is actually how I discovered it — I’m currently working on a related story, and the moment I put the album on, it blew me away. I’m already a huge classical fan (neo- or otherwise) and the emotions on display in every single note of every song here are overwhelming. Of special note is “Sangre Gitana” which uses jazz guitar alongside dark strings for a unique and spine-tingling effect — even more so when the percussion kicks in partway through.

My only sadness is that the album isn’t longer; it’s technically an extended-play, but it has the richness and vibrance of an album. You can, however, buy it in both vinyl and physical CD format over here — you can also buy the digital album and avoid Spotify as they get even more fashy, and I’m certainly going to be trying to get away from them.

Even if you’re not someone who usually listens to neoclassical, put this on for a little while. It’s worth it — and kudos to Ion Zanca for a moment of intense vulnerability in a world where that gets harder every day.

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