Even the way they hold their violins to their chests, the cello leaning to the right, the way they hold their bows part way up and use them as percussion to accentuate the notes creates their own sounds. The humming bird hands of Magdalena Sobczak who plays the dulcimer hammering the strings with what look like fancy spoons.

The sound is rhythmic and repetitive in a tribal way, as tradition would have it. They use their music almost as a chorus. The verses their powerful voices sing are laced with the strength and wisdom of their ancestors. The words I don’t understand impart the mysticism, myths and lore of loves and struggles from a village far away to the room, carrying us over a bridge through time. Throughout it all their faces are expressionless, leaving you to wonder — are the words happy or sad ones?

The variety of instruments is too vast to list and too difficult to spell. Sylwia Swiatkowska plays the old polish fiddle, a 16th century predecessor to the violin. It is difficult to play, with the strings being pressed by your nails. This is the instrument that most intrigues me. Maciej Szajkowski also has quite a collection of percussion instruments.