In the introduction of the first issue, we tried to give an identity to what we call Smyrneiko song. No matter how close we came to our definitions, we can self-critically conclude that we made a mistake. The Smyrneiko song and the early rebetiko that emerged from it are not a genre of music that can accept any definition. It is a way of life.

The lyrics delineate the real social norms of its time, which do not always align with those espoused by other social classes. They surround the petty crook with sympathy or even admiration, celebrate the achievements of unaligned folk heroes, stigmatize inappropriate loves and horrific crimes, showcase the successful professional-worker, console the sick from tuberculosis, curse expatriation, and generally create a social model of man and woman.

Even in the matter of drugs, they accept what are called light drugs and condemn heavy ones. The lower social classes that experienced these songs were the same in Smyrna, in the City, and in Athens, and we can say in all major urban centers. All of the above confirm our concerns about whether we should limit the Smyrneiko song locally and temporally to Smyrna, and indeed to the last three or four decades before the Asia Minor Catastrophe.

In recording our material, we often wavered on whether the song being classified was traditional, popular, Smyrneiko, or refugee. The fact that we knew the composer—or rather the probable composer—of a song did not make it differ in any way from the others whose creator we did not know. The song had touched the souls of the people who made it a part of their lives, singing it through happy days in the unforgettable homeland or in the bleak refugee camps and their poor shacks.

We avoided including songs by the great composers of the time solely because we intend to publish separate books for each of them. While the refugees may not have found the open arms of the Greeks, who viewed with suspicion the already suffering job market filling up with one and a half million desperate workers, they did find open ears that absorbed melodies and lyrics, filling them with joy and pleasure.

No one would of course expect anything different to occur. Who could remain indifferent to the wonderful compositions of Tountas, Papaioannou, Atraidis, Dragatsis, Papazoglou, as well as all those obscure composers who did not care to link their names with their songs?