Huun-Huur-Tu – 60 Horses in My Herd (1993)
Tracklist:
01 – Sygyt – Lament of the Igil
02 – Mezhegei
03 – Oske Cherde (Foreign Land)
04 – Eshten Charlyyry Berge (It’s Hard to Be Parted from a Friend)
05 – Kombu
06 – Khoomei (Throat-Singing)
07 – Kongurei
08 – Fantasy on the Igil
09 – Bayan Dugai
10 – Tuvan Internationale
11 – Kargyraa
12 – Ching Soortukchulerining Yryzy (Song of the Caravan Drivers)
Huun-Huur-Tu:
Kaigal-ool Khovalyg
(voice, igil, toshpuluur, chanzy);
Sayan Bapa
(voice, igil, Tuvan percussion);
Albert Kuvezin
(voice, guitar);
Alexander Bapa
(Tuvan percussion)
It was shortly after the ensemble Huun-Huur-Tu left Los Angeles to return to Tuva on the heels of a recording session for the sound track of a new Hollywood film about Geronimo, the chief of the Apaches, that I sat down to write these notes and realized that I’d forgotten to ask the members of Huun-Huur-Tu a crucial question: what does Huun-Huur-Tu mean in Tuvan, and why did they choose it as their moniker? I picked up the phone and dialed Kyzyl, the capital of Tuva. In a few seconds, I was speaking with Alexander Bapa, the percussion player in Huun-Huur-Tu (whose instrumentarium includes a conch shell, an enormous goat-skin shamanic drum, and a rattle made from the ankle bones of a sheep enclosed in a bull testicle).
“Huun-Huur-Tu means the vertical separation of light rays that you often see out on the grasslands just after sunrise or just before sunset,” Sasha Bapa explained during our New York to Kyzyl phone conversation. “Tuvans call their open countryside Huun-Huur-Tu because they are awed by the beauty of its light. Our ensemble used the name because the music we perform is rooted in that countryside and because the light rays on the steppe remind us of the separate lines of sound in throat-singing, except that in throat-singing, you’re working not with light rays, but with sound rays.”
When I first went to Tuva, in 1987, the idea of phoning Kyzyl, not to mention having the phone number of someone who lived there, would have been preposterous. Officially off-limits to foreigners, Tuva had achieved legendary status among a small group of devotees fascinated by the phenomenon of throat-singing, in which a single vocalist produces two or even three notes simultaneously by selectively amplifying harmonics naturally present in the voice. For these devotees, part of the allure of Tuvan throat-singing has undoubtedly been the mystery of Tuva itself. Even before this small South Siberian land became a diplomatically closed part of the Soviet Union, it had remained remarkably free of incursions by the explorers, scholar-travelers, traders, and soldiers who for centuries crisscrossed remote corners of Asia. Ringed by mountains, desert, and thick taiga forest where descendants of the aboriginal Siberian forest people still herd reindeer, Tuva, it seems, is on the way to nowhere.
During the last few years, the political and cultural barriers that long isolated Tuva have begun to crumble. Much has changed there since my 1987 visit when xenophobic officials ordered a whole town to be given a fresh coat of paint before the arrival of our expedition, and amateur musicians were released from work for a week to prepare the songs that we would record. Tuva has welcomed foreigners interested in its culture and nature, and Tuvans have begun to travel widely to present their remarkable musical art to a steadily larger and more diverse public. The ensemble Huun-Huur-Tu is a product of Tuva’s increasing worldliness.
Sasha Bapa, his brother, Sayan, and two other musicians, Kaigal-ool Khovalyg and Albert Kuvezin formed Huun-Huur-Tu in 1992 to focus on the performance of, as Sasha put it, “old and forgotten songs.” Sasha, Sayan, and Kaigal-ool were refugees from one of the large state-managed song and dance ensembles that became a fixture of official cultural life during the Soviet era. For decades these ensembles with their glitzy performances of folk music or pseudo folk music offered close to the only outlet for young musicians who wanted to earn a living playing indigenous music. But as the music business has become increasingly privatized throughout the former Soviet Union, many musicians have abandoned the state ensembles and formed their own groups. The musical results have been decidedly mixed.
“There’s a lot of bad music in Tuva these days,” says Sasha Bapa. “Some musicians take an American melody, put Tuvan words to it and call it Tuvan music, or young guys will go out and buy a synthesizer, a drum set, and a couple of electric guitars and just bang away underneath some throat-singing. We didn’t want to do that. We’ve been rediscovering songs that no one sings any more. We learn them from old people. We even sing the Tuvan Internationale, which was popular in the 1930s, when Tuva was an independent republic [called Tanna Tuva). The words are Soviet, but the melody is a Tuvan folk melody. Tuvans didn’t stop being Tuvans just because they lived under the Soviets.”
At the same time that the members of Huun-Huur-Tu have devoted themselves to learning old songs and tunes, their performances reflect the values of innovation as much as tradition. For example, the very notion of an ensemble like Huun-Huur-Tu is new to Tuva. Most Tuvan music has traditionally been performed by a solo singer or instrumentalist, and musicians have tended to specialize in a particular genre or musical style. These genres and styles in turn have deep roots in particular kinds of social occasions. By contrast, Huun-Huur-Tu’s eclectic concert presentations of old songs and tunes fall between the cracks of Tuvan musical life. “In Tuva, there’s still no real context for what we do,” says Sasha Bapa. “We perform there only rarely because it’s so difficult for an independent group like ours: where can we find a good hall and sound equipment, and transportation to get there? How can we deal with all the government and commercial structures that still control a lot of the booking? And who can offer fees that will support us even modestly as professional musicians? Kaigal-ool Khovalyg, the musical leader of our group, might be better known in America than in Tuva. We’re trying to preserve our musical heritage, but at the same time, we’re trying to look forward. If a musical tradition stops evolving, it is destined to die.”
Ted Levin
All artwork is 300 DPI.
RS:
http://rapidshare.com/files/281058879/Huun-Huur-T__60_Horses_in_My_Herd.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/281060257/Huun-Huur-T__60_Horses_in_My_Herd.part2.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/281061359/Huun-Huur-T__60_Horses_in_My_Herd.part3.rar
