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The Classical Accordion (Minus Squeeze-Bachs) New York
Weill Recital Hall, Carnegie Hall
11/05/2025 -
Philip Glass: Opening from Glasswords (arr. Sidorova)
Johann Sebastian Bach: Adagio from Keyboard Concerto in D Minor, BWV 974 – Chorale Prelude on “Ich ruf’ zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ”, BWV 639 (arr. Sidorova)
Sergey Akhunov: Sketch III
Gabriella Montero: Beyond Bach (arr. George Morton & Sidorova)
Isaac Albéniz: Suite Espanola, Op. 47: 5. “Asturias (Leyenda)”
Astor Piazzolla: Chau Paris (arr. Sidorova)
Franck Angelis: Fantasie on a Theme of Piazzolla “Chiquilín de Bachín”
Sergei Voitenko: Revelation
Alexey Arkhipovsky: Cinderella (arr. Alexander Poeluev)
Alfred Schnittke: Revis Fairy Tale: Four Movements from Gogol Suite (arr. Friedrich Lips & Sidorova)
Ksenija Sidorova (Accordion) 
K. Sidorova/S. Voitenko (© John Kentish/Wikimedia Commons)
“Accordion, n. An instrument in harmony with the sentiments of an assassin.”
Ambrose Bierce
“Words cannot express quite a lot of feelings, whereas an accordion falling down a staircase can somehow capture an emotion much better.”
John Lydon
Until I heard Ksenija Sidorova, I loathed the accordion. The wheezy sound, the push‑pull of the bellows, even the shape. That was because I played the damned thing.
I performed in such hot‑spots as North Korea (in a Potemkin girl’s school), Damascus (a nightclub inhabited by a few dozen men and a half‑dozen sleepy ten-cents-a-dance women), and in a chaikhane (an all‑night truckers stop) in the then no‑man’s land between Iran and Afghanistan (living and being paid in shish kebab and opium).
And interviewing the one-time world’s most famous accordion player, Dick Contino, I had the nerve to ask how he could play such a wretched instrument.
“That’s easy,” he said with the insouciance of one who had been asked the question a hundred times. “I make it sound like anything but an accordion.”
The words “loathsome” or “wretched” could never be applied to the Latvian‑born Ms. Sidorova. Though truth be told, her first selections–two from Bach, one a variation on Bach–did have a smoky organ‑like muddiness.
I am certain that Ms. Sidorova could play a whole Brandenburg Concerto on her fantastic Pigni accordion. But it would still sound like an accordion playing Johann Sebastian. (A squeeze‑Bachs?)
This, though, was misreading the obvious. That, songs which were Spanish or Russian or Italian, songs which unheard of right‑hand virtuosity and a secret with those left‑hand buttons, she was ridiculously brilliant.
With Turkish-American Fazil Say’s Three Ballads, she broke out of Baroque replication, offering authentic Turkish melodies with left‑hand descant. And with Albéniz’ selections from his Suite Espanola, her fingers went dancing around the keys with the speedy virtuosity of a Hamelin.
Things only got better from there. Piazzolla has the French-Italian melody which can work with any instrument, but Ms. Sidorova’s accordion was like a Parisian Metro player–quadrupled in virtuosity. Even out‑Piazzolla‑ing that Argentine-New York-European genius, one Franck Angelis arranged a sad chanson with both sadness and light.
How does one explain the zeitgeist of Ksenija Sidorova’s program? Until the final three works, it was an ever‑ascending arc. Starting with un‑accordion music, and rising to works fit for her instrument. Other classical accordionists have dozens of “pedals”, the equivalent of organ stops. But she seemed to have none. Her sounds were pure accordion.
And yes, the middle numbers could have been “ethnic”, but with her dazzling right‑hand keyboard, each transcended each other. As for the secret of the left hand chord buttons...well, wait.
The most complex work was Armenian composer Sergei Voitenko, whose own instrument is the bayan, an all‑button accordion. Revelation in a mere five minutes was deep, a chiaroscuro piece which was like an interlude before two miracles.
The first was Cinderella, a mere five minutes by Alexey Arkhipovsky. I have no idea which part of the fairy‑tale was depicted. But this was gorgeous study in staccato notes on both hands.
“How was this possible?” I pondered. “How did those left‑hand buttons turn into firecracker sharp melodies?” Aha, the secret (for any accordionists reading this) is that her instrument had not only the usual 120 buttons–but about 20 or thirty “free notes”. In other words, Ms. Sidorova could play triple-counterpoint: keyboard, chordal buttons and melody buttons.
The last works were from Alfred Schnittke’s wonderful Gogol Suite. Orchestrally, it is light, balletic, melodic. But one assumes that Gogol the child would have known only balalaika, bayan and accordion. The music, arranged by Ms. Sidorova and a partner, inwardly complex, had an ectoplasm of buoyant joy.
One must add that Ms. Sidorova’s between‑song commentaries were gracious, entertaining, and perfectly timed. An Associate, Fellow and graduate of London’s Royal Academy of Music, she obviously knows her verbal skills. And her repertoire–everything from the Chicago Symphony to Thomas Hampson with Schubert’s Winterreise–shows that he work tonight was the top of her colorful rich musical landscape.
Harry Rolnick
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