throat-singing

The Hu – Day 317

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The Hu stage – Photo: L. Weikel

The Hu

I missed the cutoff to publish this post in time to have it go out in email this evening. But I’m nevertheless going to get it posted before I go to bed. Email-only recipients will simply receive a ‘double-dose’ of Ruffled Feathers tomorrow. My apologies.

The reason for my blown deadline is that Karl and I were in NYC attending a concert by The Hu, and it was after 1:00 a.m. by the time we pulled in the driveway.

I’ve written about throat singing here and The Hu, specifically, here, but I have to say, I don’t think I ever expected to see them in person.

I Am a Rube

Before I go any further, you might find it amusing that I had no idea there would be no chairs where this concert took place, and did not discover this fact until we were having dinner with family, right before we walked to the venue.

“Seriously?” I asked my nephew when he broke the news that we’d be standing all night, throughout the entire concert (including the opening act) – and could quite possibly find ourselves in the vicinity of a mosh pit.

“Yep,” he said, nodding his head as he finished the last finger-licking bite of his house special tacos. (We ate at Mesa Coyoacan, in Brooklyn – omg beyond yummy.) “I’m sorry; you’ll probably wish you had some earplugs, too. Things can get really loud there.”

I looked across the table at Karl, who just rolled his eyes. “We’ll figure it out,” he commented. “We can always leave early.” Nevertheless, I felt like a total rube for not having even once considered that the concert might be…intense.

“Oh,” Al added as an afterthought. “You might’ve wanted to bring earplugs.”

The Warsaw – Photo: L. Weikel

The Warsaw

Thus we found ourselves walking to the Warsaw, wondering just how bad an idea was turning into. Were we going to stick out like sore thumbs as some old geezers? I don’t feel geezerly, but damn – the potential was real. I just might succumb fairly rapidly after walking to the venue. I doubted I had the will to stand for three hours.

The Warsaw itself was great. A bit smaller than I’d anticipated, with a high, white plaster ceiling in the concert venue, and a clean and roomie ladies room. (This was important to me, since I knew I’d be standing for hours…!) We arrived about half an hour before the start-time on the tickets, so managed to get surprisingly close to the stage.

I made a conscious decision not to be in the center. I wanted to have easy access to an exit, just in case I wimped out.

Al Lover

The opening act was a trance/dance/synth artist named Al Lover. Since this was the type of music my son Karl created and introduced me to years ago, I really liked it. (You’ll recall it’s in his honor I’m engaging in this 1111 Devotion). Anyway, much as I really liked the music, it made me sad to see Al bent over his synthesizer on the stage, creating the same music that reminds so much of my son.

Al Lover – Photo: L. Weikel

I’m listening to Al Lover’s music as I write this, in fact. It’s putting me in a zone that’s helping the words flow. Thanks, Al.

The Hu

When The Hu finally came on stage, they did not disappoint. They. Were. Great.

I wish I could upload some snippets that I recorded, but instead, I’ll just link to a couple of their videos.

The Hu – Photo: L. Weikel

I can, however, share some still photos. You can see, we were pretty close to the stage. I loved feeling  the music every bit as much as I heard it.

The Hu (Love his instrument) – Photo: L. Weikel

Toward the end of the concert, a group of about eight guys sort of in the center, in front of the stage, started hurling their bodies about (vaguely in time with the beat) (but not). I’m guessing this was our first experience of a ‘mosh pit.’ It looked painful, and I moved out of the way so I wouldn’t get slammed with an elbow (or some other body part). They seemed to be having a great time – but I wasn’t tempted in the least!

I’m tired, but determined to get this written before I go to bed.

I would go see The Hu again in a heartbeat. And I’d go to see Al Lover, too. We didn’t leave the concert early; and we even stayed for the encore. Our feet held up – but I have to admit: my ears are still ringing.

Worth it!

The Hu – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-794)

Return of the Mongols – Day Fifty Seven

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Massive statue of Chinggis Khaan, Mongolia – Photo by L.Weikel

Return of the Mongols

OK, I know. I’m weird. I love me my Tuvan throat singing and I’ve not been shy in sharing that love with you, my peeps.

If you recall, I mentioned that even though I refer to throat singing in general as ‘Tuvan’ throat singing, it actually originated in and is endemic to the culture of southwestern Siberia (the Altai region), south central Siberia (Tuva), and Mongolia.

Of course, that’s because all of the political boundaries separating these countries didn’t exist back when throat singing originated. But just as there are languages, and dialects within those languages, that share a common root, the same applies to the phenomenon of throat singing.

Mongolian Folk-Metal

I’ve already given you a flavor of throat singing from the Altai Republic. And then some examples of Tuvan throat singing. Tonight I’m going to give you a fascinating and modern take on this form of singing by introducing you to The Hu, a Mongolian folk-metal band. Yeah. You read that right. Folk-metal.

And it is some crazy awesome music, if I do say so myself.

Beyond loving the 21stcentury interpretation of my beloved throat singing, I find the cinematography in the video for this song (Yuve Yuve Yu) succeeds in capturing aspects of the astounding beauty of the Mongolian landscape.

I have to admit that the lyrics to this song stir something deep within me also. I resonate with the desire of these musicians to urge their Mongolian kin to reconnect with the legendary ferocity of their ancestors and their astonishingly successful leader. Their ferocious nature, though, remains an unmistakable core thread of their being, no matter where you look or whom you meet.

Reconnecting to the Ferocity of Life

But the ferocity is not what you might expect, meaning war-like or antagonistic expression. Rather, the Mongolians and southern Siberians (Tuvans) I’ve met live ferociously. They love and laugh and share themselves with a wildness and intensity that mirrors the harsh environment in which they live: the vast steppes, mountains, and taiga.

Indeed, I’ve learned a lot more about Chinggis (Ghengis) Khaan since traveling to Tuva in 2003 and then returning to Mongolia and southern Siberia in 2017. Fascinatingly, his values and beliefs resulted in the Mongols being instrumental in cultivating and disseminating education, literacy, and religious freedom throughout their vast empire.

There is something to the inherent wildness of the steppes and the nomadic way of life that appeals to me at the deepest level. Granted, much has changed in the way many Mongolians and Tuvans live, including moving to cities, such as Irkutsk, Kyzyl, and Ulaanbaatar. I feel it is the wild essence that The Hu are calling their countrymen and women to remember and reclaim.

I need to post. Maybe I’ll write more about this another time… In the meantime, I hope you groove to this as much as I do.

Sculpture in Main Square of Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia – photo by L. Weikel

(T-1054)

Khoomei – Day Fifty Five

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Photo by Ilya Naymushin

Khoomei

Based on some of the comments I received since last night’s post, I thought I might write a little more about Tuvan throat singing.

Technically, I suppose, I should just call it ‘throat singing’ and not add the ‘Tuvan’ adjective. This is especially true since just last night I enjoyed the skilled performance of Altai Kai – a group from the Altai Republic in southwestern Siberia.

Throat singing, which is technically a type of overtone singing, is often referred to as Tuvan throat singing, khoomei, and sometime Mongolian throat singing. I’ve mostly heard it referred to as either Tuvan throat singing or simply khoomei.

Republic of Tuva – South-Central Siberia

Just east of the Altai Republic (which is actually now part of Russia) is the Republic of Tuva, which, perhaps oddly enough, I consider one of my homelands.

Yes, I know; it’s hard to comprehend how or why I could consider it so. But the knowledge and feeling within is visceral; it is without a doubt a spiritual homeland to me. Prior to 2003, I never would have imagined this could be my experience, and yet…

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, when I experienced my first auditory experience of Tuvan throat singing (before I actually went to Siberia a few months later), it sent shock waves through my system. The CD I was listening to was a great introduction: Back Tuva Future and featured Kongar-Ol Ondar, probably one of the greatest Tuvan throat singers ever. Ondar was hugely instrumental in bringing awareness of this form of singing to the United States in the ‘90s, and tragically died in 2013, only 51 years old. Willy Nelson collaborated on that album, which added an interesting twist, too.

Bert Dag – Home Away From Home

I didn’t realize it at the time, but listening to that album over and over, I was actually being schooled in some of Tuva’s most popular folk songs. This was brought home to me when I was visiting a very small village in the south of Tuva called Bert Dag.

One of the first days I was in Bert Dag, the families who were aware of my visit proudly called me outside to meet this adorable, seemingly shy little boy – he could only have been 3 or 4 as I recall – so I could hear him sing for me. Not only did this tiny person start singing some khoomei (which, when you hear that guttural sound emanating from a man or woman, it’s one level of amazing – but resonating out of a little boy?), but he was also singing one of the songs I recognized from the CD! Indeed, it was one that speaks of the loss of their homeland and makes my heart ache every time I hear it.

Wow – thanks for that memory.

I realize I’m not giving you much more information on this traditional technique in this post. But beyond the links I provided yesterday, and above, here is another group that I had the great fortune to listen to and experience up close and personal twice, just this year: Alash Ensemble. I saw them in both Connecticut and Flemington, NJ.

In closing out this post, I just want to say that in my experience, khoomei is not just an art form. It is also a gateway to shamanic travel (journeying).

Hmmmm.

(T-1056)

Take a Chance – Day Fifty Four

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Take a Chance

You never know how a day is going to turn out.

I’d expressed an interest in attending a program tonight in NYC several weeks ago, and then forgot about it.

The Rubin Museum is an absolute treasure. I’ve been to several programs there and every single one has been well worth the trip.

The program that was scheduled for tonight at the Rubin was Altai Kai – a world-renowned throat-singing ensemble from the Altai region of Siberia. If you’re not familiar with throat-singing, it is hard to describe with words. Similar to shamanism, you have to experience it to truly appreciate it.

Indeed, hearing throat singing for the very first time caused me to spontaneously burst into tears. Not because I was offended or frightened by what I heard emanating from my car’s speakers but because it reached right into the center of my chest and pierced my heart. It spoke to me in a way I’d never experienced music before. And that extremely unexpected occurrence sealed my fate of actually taking a trip to the former Republic of Tuva (now a part of Russia) in 2003.

And that trip ended up being my literal and completely unexpected initiation into shamanism.

But that’s a story for another day. Suffice it to say, though, throat-singing is near and dear to my heart.

So I’d tossed out the idea to Karl that we might want to attend this concert tonight and we’d agreed it might be fun. And then we just put it on the back burner. Wait and see.

Yesterday, we suddenly remembered that this was a possibility. I contacted the Rubin and almost bought the tickets – but had the possibility of a session with a client today and didn’t want to make plans that might have to be canceled. So I held off.

Turned out that the session never took place today, so I logged on to order the tickets and – you guessed it – they were sold out.

We were so bummed out. Checking further on the website, I could see they had a process for a waiting list – but you had to sign up for it in person – and not a moment before 5:00 p.m. (the concert started at 7:00). And then you had to show up again at 6:50 p.m., again in person, to see if you were lucky enough to be given the opportunity to buy some tickets at the last minute.

Why Not?

After only a moment, we just looked at each other and said, “Why not?”

So we took a risk. We threw caution to the wind and left for NYC at 3:00 p.m. Wow, we made fantastic time. In fact, we got to the Museum at 4:45 – and they wouldn’t let us sign up for the wait list literally until the stroke of 5:00!

We grabbed a quick dinner and made our way back to The Rubin.

Didn’t we see my niece and nephew (who’d introduced us to the magic of The Rubin to begin with) sitting at a table in the lobby? They, too, had put themselves on the waiting list and were hoping to have their name called at 6:50. (I guess procrastination might run a tad in my family?)

We hadn’t even realized the other would be there – and neither of us had contacted the other because we knew we hadn’t been able to buy tickets ahead of time.

Turned out all four of us got in! And it was a great concert. Just…amazing.

I hope you enjoy the taste of the Altai Kai, above.

And next time you have a chance to take a chance? Do it.

(T-1057)