About Kitka

The women in Kitka are fearless sonic explorers, and you can hear their intrepid spirit in every haunting song. For nearly four decades, the eight-women Oakland ensemble has developed a vast, breathtaking repertoire of traditional songs from the Balkans, Caucasus and Slavic lands, as well as new material composed for the group drawing on those traditional vocal practices. Traveling to rural communities in Armenia and Bulgaria, Ukraine and Georgia, Serbia and Turkey, they’ve gathered songs and communed with elders who are often the last links to centuries-old traditions. The ravishing textures of the women’s voices, unearthly cadences, angular rhythms and unfamiliar languages make Kitka’s performances an enthralling experience.

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THE EVENING STAR: a new Wintersongs program and recording to be released Fall of 2017. Haunting, ethereal, & festive songs from Eastern Europe and beyond.

KQED "SPARK": Preserve and celebrate the rich vocal traditions of Eastern Europe with the women of Kitka. 

ZVEZDA VECHERNICA: (Shop region, Bulgaria) "The evening star shone way up on high. It lit up the broad earth and even further afar." 

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Simply amazing harmonies. . . truly this is the most wonderful singing I have ever heard.
A stunning group unlike any other. . . absolutely electrifying!
"Kitka moved easily from tradition to tradition, as comfortable with the shrieks and howls of joyful celebration as with the quietest meditation, offering a convincing shout-out for a repertoire many know too little about."
— Joan Reinthaler, WASHINGTON POST
KITKA’s songs are hauntingly beautiful, simple, yet otherworldly. The rich sound these women produce resonates as if energized by the universe itself, as if it were calling all live beings and still matter into togetherness and unity.
 “Even God stops to listen when KITKA - unamplified, without sets, props, instruments, or even lyrics most people can understand—opens its collective mouth. The sound is so chillingly beautiful, by anyone's standards, that the entire audience sits enraptured, most of them with eyes shut. My own eyes flooded with tears.
— Summer Burke, THE GUARDIAN


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