Editor’s Note: This interview first appeared in Path Finders, an email newsletter from the Daily Yonder. Each week, Path Finders features a Q&A with a rural thinker, creator, or doer. Like what you see here? You can join the mailing list at the bottom of this article and receive more conversations like this in your inbox each week.
Yagódy is a contemporary Ukrainian folk band carrying on rich musical traditions that originated in their country’s agricultural communities. The group was founded by Zoriana Dybovska, who sings in glorious, four part harmony with Sofia Leshishak, Valeria Mocharska-Lyulchyk, and Tatiana Voitov. Percussionist Timur Gogitidze also serves as the group’s translator for English-language audiences. During a recent tour of the United States, they recorded this excellent set at the KEXP radio station in Seattle.
This past March, I was fortunate to catch Yagódy giving another live radio performance as part of a WDVX Blue Plate Special at the 2026 Big Ears Music Festival in Knoxville, Tennessee. Prior to the festival, the band gave me some context about the rural roots of their music, and its role in resisting a war that has decimated rural life in their country.
Responses from Yagódy have been translated from Ukrainian to English by Teimuraz Gogitidze.
The Daily Yonder: In the U.S., folk music is associated with rural, agricultural parts of the country. I am wondering if this is also true for the traditional folk music in Ukraine? If so, specifically what rural parts of the country does this music originate from?
Yagódy: In many ways, folk music in Ukraine is deeply connected to rural life, much like the folk music traditions found in the United States. Historically, these songs were born in villages – within agricultural communities where music was not a separate art form, but a natural, breathing part of everyday life. People sang while working the fields, during the harvest, and as a part of other seasonal rituals.
These melodies carry the DNA of different regions: the haunting polyphony of Polissia in the north, the resonant echoes of the Carpathians in the west, and the lyrical soul of central Ukraine. Each place has its own vocal style and emotional temperament, yet they are all united by a profound relationship between the people, the land, and the passage of time.
For us, this connection to village culture is not something distant or academic. We didn’t need to go on expeditions to collect folklore; we grew up within it. These are the songs our grandmothers sang to us. They are the lullabies that carried us to sleep, the melodies that lived in our kitchens and at family gatherings. When we bring this music to the stage, we aren’t “reconstructing” a lost relic – we are continuing a lineage that never truly disappeared.
DY: The music video for the song “Ne Iamai kalynu” takes place in a rural setting. Can you tell me some about your band’s personal connections to rural parts of Ukraine? How have these experiences informed the music you make?
Yagódy: The rural setting you see in the music video for “Ne lamai kalynu” is natural to us because it reflects the world where these songs originated. Each of us has a personal, visceral connection to the Ukrainian countryside – through family, childhood memories, and inherited stories. Even as we live and perform in modern cities, that inner landscape remains. It shapes the way we hear, the way we sing, and the way we feel every note.
DY: What kinds of sights, sounds, or smells do you encounter in rural places, and how do they show up in the music you make? Can you give any examples of specific songs that illustrate these kinds of connections?
Yagódy: When we think of these places, the memory is sensory, not just visual. It’s the sound of the wind moving through wheat fields. The rhythm of repetitive manual labor. Dogs barking in the distance. The way a human voice carries across an open valley. It’s the scent of the earth after rain, of woodsmoke, and of food prepared slowly, without rush. There is a certain spaciousness in this life – a kind of breathing room that exists within the traditional songs themselves.
You can hear this intimacy in songs like “Koni”. For us, it isn’t just a track; it’s a story from Zoriana’s family. Her grandmother used to dedicate it to her first love – a boy she would run to meet barefoot by the river. Even later in life, when her memory began to fade, she still remembered him through this song. The music carried a truth stronger than time. When we sing it now, we are carrying that memory forward, keeping it alive rather than leaving it to history.
Another example is “Tuman Yarom,” which hails from the Kherson region in southern Ukraine – a land that has endured occupation since the beginning of the full-scale invasion. While we didn’t grow up with this specific song, it was vital for us to include it in our repertoire. When a place is occupied, its voice is at risk of being silenced or erased. Singing it is our way of ensuring that its soul remains heard.
A crowd reacts to Yagódy’s performance at the 2026 Big Ears Music Festival (Photo by Billie Wheeler)
DY: How has the Russian invasion impacted rural Ukrainians specifically? I know that much of the fighting is taking place in rural parts of the country, and I have read about how the war has impacted farmers, halting agricultural activity and forcing displacement. How have these issues impacted you or people you know?
Yagódy: The war has changed rural life in Ukraine violently and directly. Many of the territories where the heaviest fighting occurs are agricultural hubs – places where life was dictated by the land and the seasons. Farms have been destroyed, fields are littered with mines, and entire villages have been displaced. For many people we know, the stability of rural life has been shattered.
Yet, these places have also shown incredible resilience. People return as soon as they can. They rebuild. They continue to plant, to harvest, and to live. Culture is a pillar of that survival. Songs are still sung – perhaps more quietly now, perhaps with more pain – but ultimately with more meaning.
DY: Throughout history, we have seen wars not only end lives and destroy places, but erase culture as well. What has it been like to preserve traditional Ukrainian folk music during a time of war? What are the challenges of this work? And what are the rewards?
Yagódy: Historically, war doesn’t just target buildings; it attempts to erase identity. For Ukraine, this struggle is not new. For a long time, our folk culture was suppressed, dismissed as “provincial,” or oversimplified. Today, preserving these songs is more than an artistic choice; it is an act of protection.
But for us, preservation doesn’t mean freezing these songs in the past. It means letting them live in the present. That is why we bring them into contemporary soundscapes and new contexts. We want them to breathe, to move, and to reach people who may have never heard Ukrainian music before.
This work carries a heavy emotional weight. The rewards, however, are profound. When we perform, we see people connect to the music even if they don’t understand a word of the language. Something in the rhythm, the voice, and the repetition reaches them. In those moments, it becomes clear that these songs aren’t just about Ukraine. They are about the universal human experience: love, loss, time, the land, and our shared connection.
For us, the rural world is not just a theme or an aesthetic. It is our foundation. Through our music, we are simply continuing a conversation that started long before us, one that we hope will echo long after we are gone.
This interview first appeared in Path Finders, a weekly email newsletter from the Daily Yonder. Each Monday, Path Finders features a Q&A with a rural thinker, creator, or doer. Join the mailing list today, to have these illuminating conversations delivered straight to your inbox.
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