May 3, 2010

The Window

The Lian and Chirgilchin Ensembles Collaborate
by Nancy Cantwell and Aram Yardumian

On April 9th, a Friday night at California Institute of the Arts, there took place an intimate and profound collaboration from a far away part of the world. The Herb Alpert School of music hosted The Lian Ensemble and Chirgilchin in their The Wild Beast music pavilion (aptly named after composer Morton Feldman’s metaphor for the untamable in music) and a new sound emerged. The Lian Ensemble, a Los Angeles based group whose roots lie in the Persian classical and mystical Sufi traditions are no strangers to the idea of fusion. Each of their nine albums  incorporates such diverse different musical styles as jazz, Flamenco, and Hindustani. The addition of Chirgilchin, the Tuvan throat singers, whose music emanates from Buddhism and Shamanism practices, was a seamless and inspired choice. The resultant recording “The Window“, which will be released in May 2010, explores this passionate blending.

The Wild Beast was the ideal environment to experience this synthesis of musical styles. Designed by architects Hodgetts + Fung in consultation with a team of acoustical engineers, the resonance of every Tuvan harmonic overtone produced an elixir of aural delight. We were lucky to find a seat in the 3,200-square foot structure that merely seats 100 people when closed and 750 when in its open-air “bandshell” configuration. Fresh faced students took advantage of the floor seating and their dogs were welcomed as the animal spirit representatives. The musicians were arranged in a u-shape, the four Tuvans in full costume occupied the left hand side of the stage while the Lian Enselmble sat stage right. Not all the talent present was on stage. A convergence of other musical notables present in the audience including composer, percussionist John Bergamo and tabla master Swapan Chauduri, made the night feel ripe for generating alchemy.

The music of the evening began with three performances by Chirgilchin of pure Tuvan origins, and progressed to the collective concert by Lian and Chirgilchin of the music of “The Window.”

Tuvan throat singing is said to have originated less as an aesthetic form and more as a form of landscape-specific communication. This part of Siberia is and remains quite open and unpopulated and therefore, the frequencies of these overtones may have developed as a way to transfer information over long distances. The deep history of this tradition may be seen in its striking resemblance to other a cappella musical forms of the Eurasian steppe, such as the yoik of the Sámi and the Shamanic traditions of northeastern Siberia and Korea. Some of the tones may indeed hark back to animistic rituals that involved communication with (or mimicry of) animals. Even today some Siberian vocal music is sung to animals. That the tradition has lately been filed under the rubric of entertainment has not diminished its power in the slightest.

The Persian classical tradition has perhaps a more complex history—also for reasons of geography—by virtue of the Persian heartland’s situation between east and west. Very little is known about the music of Iran and Greater Persia until the Medieval period—a time in which people, goods and ideas were flowing freely across the steppe from China to Europe and back. That octave and scale are arguably concepts foreign to Persian classical music distinguish it from European modes, while the idiosyncratic rhythms present in Persian music may be related to poetic forms of the East. Yet the use of lute, harp and bagpipe in the Persian court probably originated further west, in Egypt or Anatolia. That improvisation has long been a feature of Persian music gives the Lian Ensemble’s tilts into free jazz, and their stitching-in of other traditions and modes, such as Tuvan throat-singing, seem natural.

Listeners to “The Window” should realize that the experience of the collaboration belongs strictly in the realm of the senses and trust in nuance, since few people are fluent communicators in both Farsi and Tuvan. Moreover, since the styles of music have distinct formal and functional histories, such a collaboration might at first seem as incongruous as, say, a didgeridoo player performing with the Berlin Philharmonic. But this cosmic untranslatability and miscegenation make the results all the more dynamic, since the emotive power of the vocals transcend, in a sense, whatever their message may be, and speak directly to the universality of music as a language.

From “The Window”, The Basis of Creation

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In 2008 Lian Ensemble’s Houman Pourmehdi was asked by Judy Mitoma, the director of the UCLA Center for Intercultural Performance, to arrange a composition for the World Festival of Sacred Music’s opening gala concert. Houman arranged a traditional Sufi piece to be performed by Lian Ensemble and Chirgilchin along with several other musical groups.  The musicians had one rehearsal the night before the performance. Houman said the resulting union “provided a night of sound so varied, unique, and seamless that it was as if a window had been established. To listen that night was to be transcendent.” – from the Liner Notes by Richard Barton

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April 18, 2010

Back to Back at REDCAT – Saturday, Night 2

Swapan Chaudhuri, Aashish Khan and the CalArts Tabla Ensemble, REDCAT April 3, 2010
By Marla Apt

My first exposure to classical Indian music was an unforgettable Ravi Shankar concert. The meditative focus of the musicians to which the presence of the audience contributed required throughout the mostly improvisational intricacies of raga struck me as spiritually uplifting and physically revitalizing. I found myself soon thereafter in India hunting for a set of tablas.

It is said that each note on the Indian scale corresponds to the human subtle anatomy (chakras and nadis that govern the flow of prana or energy in the body). With roots in ancient vedic religion, Indian classical raga music is viewed by many as a spiritual discipline that can lead the individual to the direct perception of the true nature of reality. However, after a couple of years of less than intensive study of the tabla, I discovered that the joy of pure artistic transmission only comes from a lifelong single-pointed dedication to the subject, As Ravi Shankar says “It is only after many long and extensive years of ‘sadhana’ (dedicated practice and discipline) under the guidance of one’s guru and his blessings, that the artist is empowered to put ‘prana’ (the breath of life) into a raga. This is accomplished by employing the secrets imparted by one’s teacher…. The result is that each note pulsates with life and the raga becomes vibrant and incandescent.”

Content with not being able to experience bliss in front of my own tablas, I’m happy for an opportunity to listen to the practiced masters of Indian music, most of whom became initiated into the art before the age of ten. Last week, one of India’s most recognized tabla players, Swapan Chauduri accompanied Aashish Khan at REDCAT. The evening began with the Cal Arts Tabla Ensemble, seven tabla players (all men) playing a composition written by Swapan Chauduri. Hearing what is normally an accompanying instrument in a largely improvisational form performed in a rehearsed mini orchestra subtracted much of the potential beauty and subtlety from the tabla. While all of the musicians were technically proficient, (certainly more fluent than my two years of tabla studies ever delivered), their playing, most of the time in unison with only a brief solo allotted to each individual, lacked the artistry and expression that I think a half hour tabla spotlight demanded.

However the depth of sound elicited from Swapan Chauduri’s hand, even during the tuning reminded us of the richness possible when a lifetime of disciplined mastery meets with a hand drum.

My last classical Indian music listening experience was a 3-day music festival in India. The audience of thousands wandered under the music tent, sprawled in the sun or picnicked on the ground from morning to late night listening to extended sets by vocal artists and masters of various instruments from all over India. The stark contrast to the short set performed by Khan and Chauduri in the clean black box of REDCAT was apparently a difficult transition for Khan’s instrument. Adapting to having just returned from the humid climes of India, the sarod refused to remain in tune and required continual and extended adjustments.

The introspective and weighty sound of the sarod extracts a soulful depth evocative of the blues guitar. A lute-like instrument, the sarod can have anywhere from 17-25 strings. Only 4 or 5 main strings are used to play the melody while the other strings are used for drone and resonance.

Aashish Kan, practically a member of classical Indian music royalty was trained by his father, the great Sarod master, Ali Akbar Khan and was initiated into the study of music by his Grandfather, the famous Sarod guru and innovator, Allaudin Khan, one of the twentieth centuries most influential classical Indian music artists, His Aunt, Annapurna Devi, also a teacher to a long list of India’s most recognized classical musicians was married to Sitar maestro Ravi Shankar.

The concert followed the traditional Indian recital that begins with an emotional and introspective unaccompanied exploration and coaxing of the chosen raga that leads into a rhythmic section followed by drum accompaniment in the melodic raga composition that becomes the point of departure and return for innumerable improvisations. When he did finally harness the cooperation of his instrument, Khan delivered a lovely, slow tempo raga composed specifically for the time of day. Chauduri whose instrument required very little tuning honored the mood of the raga while expertly following (with technical, artistic and mathematical skill) Khan’s extemporization.

Being a largely improvisational melodic form based on a prescribed number of beats that holds the musicians together, a raga takes time to build and unfold. After the opening act, intermission and extended tunings, the short two ragas beginning late in the evening whet my appetite and left me tired but wanting for more.

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