Tuva’s most well traveled band has returned to the U.S. for yet another tour. I think I’ve seen them 5 or 6 times now, the last time being a few years ago in Felton. I hadn’t known they’d been in town more recently, but apparently there was a concert at the Swedish American Hall in S.F. in 2008, and there was definitely a show at Fantasy Studios in Berkeley then as well, because the DVD was available for purchase at the merch table. In short, they seem to play around here more often than some local bands do.
This was my first gig of 2011. Jeanine and I traveled northwards up 280 on a night that couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be foggy or rainy, and in traffic that couldn’t decide whether to stop or go. The southbound lanes were both slower and foggier for some reason, which suited us just fine.
After going to so many punk and metal shows last year, it seemed odd to be in line with people who weren’t wearing all black. The age range was much greater too. The Great American decreed that this should be a seated show, so we grabbed a table right away in order to avoid having to stand at the back behind the seated audience like I had to do that the last time Huun Huur Tu played the Great American. Seated nearby was an old co-worker of mine who I hadn’t seen in years, and not somebody I would have thought I ‘d run into at a concert. We caught up a bit while waiting for the show to start. I also had to check out the merch table, where I got into a debate about how many CDs Tuvan band Yat-Kha had released, which just goes to show that I’m a music nerd.
Greg and Kat, who I didn’t even know were coming to the show, joined us at our little table shortly before Huun Huur Tu went on stage. I laughed at Greg for not getting a Saturday Neurosis ticket on time. Kat laughed at me for missing out on Godspeed You Black Emperor tickets. With mirth in the air, we waited patiently for the show to begin.
Begin it did. Huun Huur Tu calmly ascended the stage and took their places. Three of the four members (Kaigal-ool Khovalyg, Sayan Bapa, and Radik Tyulyush) play the igil (sort of a Tuvan version of a cello), and Khovalyg and Bapa also play the doshpuluur, which sounds and looks a bit like a cigar box banjo. Radik Tyulyush plays the Bysaanchy, which kind of looks like somebody tried to turn a wooden mallet into a stringed instrument, and some sort of wooden flute. Khovalyg occasionally played a Khomus, or jaw harp, and Alexey Saryglar played traditional drums and other assorted percussion instruments, including a rattle made from a bull scrotum. In a nod to western instruments, Bapa played acoustic guitar during a few songs.
The songs featuring doshpuluur tended to be more upbeat, while the ones with only igil and byzaanchi tended to be more mournful in character, with the drones underpinning lamenting vocals. Saryglar’s beats mimicked the sound of a galloping horse. Bapa did all of the announcing, probably because his English is best. His voice, despite being heavily accented, was mellifluous and calming. He often spoke of the antiquity of the songs they were playing, pointing out that some were at least a thousand years old. He spoke of the beauty of nature, in particular the taigas and mountains of Tuva, which the songs celebrate. He spoke of travelling, because of course the Tuvans are a nomadic people. He spoke of friendship, and of course, horses. It struck me that this music is indeed a reminder of simpler times, of times when people worked hard outdoors and gathered together around fires at night, of times before electricity had been harnessed and before asphalt ribboned the landscape. Hearing them in the 21st century is like being in possession of a speakerphone connected to the past. There is no rage, no frustration, and no uncertainty in the music. There is sorrow, but it is a clean sorrow, if that makes any sense. Songs like Kongurei are incredibly haunting, and that song ended up being one of my favorites of the evening.
Of course, no Tuvan concert is complete without Aa-shuu Dekei-oo, which they played at the end of their main set. The song is so happy and infectious that I always find myself singing along, even though I’m not sure what exactly I’m singing.
They played one song for an encore, and it was another familiar one, but one whose title escapes me. Saryglar played it at fast gallop, like he was participating in a horse race.
Over the years, Huun Huur Tu have stayed true to their calling as ambassadors of Tuvan music, preserving and presenting songs that might otherwise have vanished into obscurity. They haven’t been as adventurous as other Tuvan bands, like Yat-Kha or Chirgilchin, have been, instead sticking closely to traditional instruments (with the exception of some acoustic guitar and some ill-advised electronic beats on a couple of more recent CDs). Yat-Kha at times sounds almost punk, and have released a CD of interesting cover versions of songs by bands like Motorhead and Iron Butterfly, and Chirgilchin recorded a couple of heavy metal songs for a recent CD. Huun Huur Tu’s adventurous side is better displayed in their collaborations with artists like The Bulgarian Voices, Angelite, The Moscow Art Trio, Carmen Rizzo, and more recently, Vladimir Martynov. If I have one complaint about their live performances, it’s that they no longer hold any surprises for me. Still, it’s a minor complaint because the music they do play is so singular.
No photos this time, since I forgot my camera. Not that my photos are that great anyway.
Shu de.
