Tea for Tuva

I've just gotten back from a concert that represented what I'll call a more-esoteric-than-usual branch of what is known as “world music” -- namely, Tuvan throat singing. Now, for the less enlightened among my many readers, I'll briefly explain what that is. Well, first let me explain what Tuva is. Tuva, or Tannu Tuva – the place concerning which Richard Feynman famously asked, “What ever happened to Tannu Tuva?” -- is a country in central Asia. Or, it was a country, of sorts, very briefly, between World Wars I and II, after which it became the Tuvan Autonomous (right, sure) Soviet Socialist Republic. Since the Soviet breakup it has been known as a “republic” but is part of the Russian Federation.

In any case, Tuva is, among other things, about as land-locked as a place can be outside of North Dakota. Another way of putting it is that it's sort of suspended between Tibet and Siberia on the north/south dimension, and between Mongolia and Kazakhstan on the east/west dimension. Sound remote enough for you? It can be characterized as “largely rural”, which is another way of saying that when two people encounter each other in the middle of the vast, treeless prairie, it takes them a while to realize they're the same species. So, as one might expect, the music to come out of Tuva is, essentially, country music – i.e. “folk”, i.e. “world”, and that's where the attendees at tonight's concert come in.

I mean, what is it about these “world music” people, and especially about the types who go for the esoteric-within-the-esoteric? For one thing, they're all furry. I don't mean they wear actual furs – heaven forbid! -- but everything about them is furry – their clothes, their hair, their faces (I don't exclude the women from this!), and, I suspect, their brains as well. They are, by and large, throwbacks to the hippie era – except for the ones who really are hippies, i.e. unreconstructed for lo these many years. In truth, they resemble the crowd that assembles to protest WTO meetings in Washington, D.C. every year – sort of a gaggle of simpletons dressed in outfits that would make Marcel Marceau blush with shame. But they're good-hearted and harmless enough, I guess. And they are not poverty-stricken, by any means! I stopped by the CD table during intermission and the tens and twenties were flying like the playing cards in “Alice in Wonderland”. It was all I could do the wrestle the last copy of the CD I wanted out of the gnarled hands of a “hippie hag” dressed in an Inca cap and serape, and wearing wooden shoes and a string of wampum beads. But I will say this about that crowd – being a counterculture within the counterculture, they do much that is commendable. For example, they would never be found at a heavy metal concert – much too loud, much too negative, much too sanpaku (try looking that up in Wiki!). But here's the thing – besides being “furry” in all respects, they all dress in layer upon layer of said furry garments, like refugees. You'd think they were wearing everything they own at once (maybe they are). And this was indoors, in a perfectly normal, moderately-heated building. There were people there wrapped in blankets, like the Indians in “Cheyenne Autumn”. Maybe it's that macrobiotic diet – you know, the same one that gives them all pasty complexions and makes them smell like onions. But whatever, I felt positively naked in just a shirt and slacks.

So much for the crowd – now let's talk about the music! Throat singing could only have been invented by people who live outdoors in a stiff wind all their lives. It seems to involve very efficient use of energy but produces very penetrating tones, which (I assume) can travel long distances. It starts with extremely low, guttural notes, and how they are produced I have no idea. These guys' regular speaking voices are in the tenor range, but when they sing they make Popeye sound like Tiny Tim. So you have that, and on top of that you have a very high, whistling, pure tone that represents the harmonics of the basic low tone, and the progression of these harmonics sounds to me a lot like the pentatonic scale -- it may not be, but that's what it sounds like. So you have these two contrasting sorts of tones, plus accompaniment on a variety of what appear to be fairly primitive (but probably aren't) stringed instruments, with the occasional accordion (!) thrown in for good measure. And there is, besides the three men, one woman singer, who reminded me of the Bulgarian women's chorus style of singing. (The instruments, on the other hand, brought back memories of some vaguely Hungarian/Romanian/Bulgarian instruments that make a very similar sound. None of this is coincidental, by the way, since Hungary is, after all, a sort of cultural outpost of Central Asia in Europe, and Bulgaria has undoubtedly been impacted by many of the same influences.)

And lest you think this whole business is just too esoteric for words, let me inform you that, in Tuva, they have competitions in this sort of thing, and all the musicians on stage were prize winners. (And I'll bet they don't have any tacky “Tuvan throat singing award shows” on prime-time TV.) In any case, it was an excellent show, but it still amazes me how something that is so normal over there becomes a kind of fetish for all the social misfits over here. (This is what I'll call a “cross-cultural mystery”, and I hope to explore the phenomenon further at a later date.) I wonder what sorts of Tuvans are attracted to American beer, pizza, NASCAR racing, and football? I shudder to think...