Another excellent post from EC.

In a little Russian industrial town that fits Ewan Maccoll's song better than any, one of my best friends, whose parents were born in the countryside, taught me how to play the spoons. He explained that they were THE folk instrument, forget the kitschy balalaikas. Others have stated the reason, but it's worth repeating. It used to be that villages only had one, maybe two instruments, he said, yet nobody wanted to be left out of the fun, so people would grab whatever they had and join in. Everyone had at least a pair of wooden spoons at home. That's also why Russian music has a lout of whistling, hey's, clapping and boot-slapping. If you can't afford an instrument, you become creative.
That's what's missing in all your pontifications and poscriptions. JOY. FUN.
For you it's a dreary experiment in nationalism.
And that is also why EC sounds more like a Gypsy fiddler than anyone else outside of Eastern Europe, not because she plays that sort of music, but because of the mix of joy and plaintiveness in her playing.