Posts Tagged composer
Day 40 – This journey is only the beginning
Posted by Gary Hayes in Daily Blog on September 6, 1997

We set ourselves the impossible task of reflecting on the last six weeks in the space of a few hours. As we have been doing all along, what follows are the immediate impressions of all members of the team. We will continue to add to this site over the coming months.
Jan – Musician
It seems an impossible task to try to sum up our journey using words, so much has happened that cannot be conveyed verbally. The three countries of Central Asia that we have visited are remarkable for their diversity of people and ways of life. We have barely been able to get a flavour of the place, and yet in some ways we have had some profound experiences. It has been a recurring feature of our meetings with people that we have been accepted, welcomed and drawn into houses and families. Trust, tolerance and hospitality, particularly towards visitors is so pronounced that you cannot fail to be moved by it.
Ways of life are constantly changing all over the world. As they do so the music and culture that is associated with them changes too. It may be preserved in an artificial form, or it may die out completely. We have seen evidence of both these trends in Central Asia. We have also seen abundant evidence of vibrant, living traditions transforming and adapting to new environments. Munadjat Yulchieva (Day 7) is a good example. A nationally renowned figure she has managed to stay faithful to her musical tradition whilst raising the profile of maqam music.
There is a marked distinction between the cultural life of the cities and the rural areas. Even in the pre-Soviet times cities were centres of culture where musicians gathered, the same is true now. Uzbekistan with it’s great cities has preserved the court music tradition even though the courts are long gone. Some musicians retain the link with the original tradition, but there is little space for them now. Abdurahim for example one of the countries most highly esteemed musicians no longer makes a living through music and has become a businessman. Many are leaving the country for America and Israel. Even though there is something of a revival in national music (as a symbol of nationhood) this will not sustain the tradition. Musicians however are endlessly creative, and change comes about through a process of adaptation. The less fashionable Kashgar rubab has been superseded by the Tar from Azerbaijan. Perhaps a new tradition will arise out of the same feelings that inspired the shash maqam.
In the rural areas the picture seems somewhat different. Musicians play a more integral role. In Kazakstan and Kyrgyzstan which were largely nomadic musicians still sustain an aural tradition which is part of everyday life and life events. Many great musicians are farmers or labourers who are partially self sufficient. Money means little to them and many seemed perplexed by our fees for recordings. The western distinctions of professional and amateur do not apply here. Music is too important to be exploited for money. As the rural ways of life continue so the music has survived alongside it. The hospitality often being inseparable from the music. Malika Askarova (Day 25) is a good example of this. She does not consider herself to be a musician and yet she is able to affect a listener in an extraordinary way. She did not understand why our contracts and fees were necessary. There was a sense that music is a gift which should be given freely, Malika was not the only musician who gave us this impression.
It has been through the attitudes of people that Central Asia has made it’s mark upon me. Whatever the external appearances or current economic situations of the countries, there is still a feeling of a great ‘civilisation’. I mean this in the sense of an internal process of development. A cultured people and not just people with a culture. Many of the musical genres still retain a philosophical and reflective content. These themes reflect a view of life and an attitude towards people that are quite different from those I am used to. The physical and the metaphysical are constantly intertwined in art as in life. The art forms often have a delicacy and subtlety which is deceptive. “The art that conceals art” – always hinting at a greater mystery beyond.
Central Asia is a wonderful and fascinating place. I hope that our reflections serve to wet the appetite of other travelers. Our journey was not a survey of the area, more like an account of some almost random events. Like any supposedly random events they have their own logic and they tell their own story. We will meet again…
GARY – Project Producer
I am now sitting on a clay wall at a Kazak equivalent of a service station on highway A351. The ammenities consist of six well equipped yurts in which some of the team are happily drinking chai. As I gaze across the hot, dusty plains I have a little time to reflect on this complex and wonderful journey. As the Project Producer and as a composer and musician, Central Asia has held a deep, undefined fascination for me. When I devised this journey last year I had certain key objectives. One was the relationship with the internet audience and another the use of new digital technologies in harsh and remote environments. I had chosen Central Asia because my travels here in the past had been so special. The people are warm and welcoming and the music here was always a revelation. I had been particulary inspired by the natural landscape and ancient cities which are still to be fully discovered.
It has been thirty eight days of remorseless activity. We have endeavoured to bring you daily, an episode describing each 24 hours, in text, pictures and sound. (Video for the internet would have added too great a pressure this time round – some of the high quality broadcast video we produced daily may end up on the site retrospectively).
The journey has been a rollercoaster ride – technically and creatively. There have been low points, of subteraenean proportions. Particularly when the communications failed early on yet the music carried on and we could not get it to you. There have been many high points though. When musicians, unknown to us and the rest of the world have astounded us with their emotion and virtuosity. See Raushan and Aygul the two virtuoso of Day 4.
The four person team have ploughed on regardless. In unforgiving heat, across great distance, through disabling illness and against failing technology we have ceaselessly transmitted. Another part of the R&D aspect of this project was to break down traditional production roles. This project was not about specialist team members but about four people making something happen. All members of the team have written, all have produced and directed the artists, all have helped with the organisation, all have given way beyond what was expected.
The great music and the sense that every night we must send the story has driven us onward. There has been little falling out and only a few heated arguments. Often these resulted from the problems associated with team writing. Having all contributed to Jan’s story the occasional misplaced personal opinion produced ‘interesting’ discussions. On the rare occassion when the team split for the writing a special perspective resulted. See Day 20 Shaykh Kushkarov.
There are many things I would change as producer of the project. I think for example the physical journey has not been fully represented. I now write this for example, passing through a police checkpoint on the outshirts of the Almaty region in Kazakstan. It is about 42 in the shade, there is a strong easterly wind and there are dust clouds billowing off the dry mountain slopes. We have brought you wonderful musicians sometimes to the detriment of saying where we are – and we have been to some special places. We have travelled a total distance of 5660km (3516 miles.) Taking off the single 700km internal flight gives some impression of the amount of road travel we have done. Fifty percent of the roads were not fit to travel on and this has taken it’s toll. For example, after a fourteen hour drive on potholed tracks to sit down and produce our episode was nigh on impossible. This has been one of the remarkable parts of this journey.
Equally remarkable has been the meetings with people. Most have been musicians but I always saw them as people. To me the special moments have been the unspoken ones. The look they give you when they know you are doing something special with them. As the Kazak Museum director said on Day 4 ‘Let the music and musical instruments be the bridge between the peoples of the World…You are the ambassadors and I wish you success”. Beyond the video and audio recording it has been the description of the immediacy of the internet that has captured everyone’s imagination here. People young and old have seen the importance of this world’s network. It’s not about ‘web pages’ and fancy gimmicks, it’s about global sharing – the musicians of Central Asia wanted so much to share their music. Shoberdy Bakshy of Day 16, would not stop playing – he wanted to sing about us all day. Afterwards he offered me to be his student before force-feeding me vodka and grapes.
At this point it would be easy to wander ‘nomadically’ into philosphical pomposity. We have tried in this project to keep that to a minimum. The people we have all come into contact with are real and they create and exist regardless of the West and it’s technology. But we are on the precipice of a period when broadcasters will facilitate instantaneous, interactive sharing of culture and ideas – to finally break down the barriers of politics and nationhood. ‘The Musical Nomad’ has proven this genre has relevance to many other societies. It has also proven, if only in one key example that interactivity in this medium is very special (See Mail 16).
As the global network becomes more transparent, faster and reliable may this project be seen historically as one of the first to venture into this rich seam.
I pull into the outskirts of Almaty. The traffic increases and the noise and pollution take hold. This is day 38 and a flight back to London beckons. It is impossible to identify change in oneself. I hope I, like all the music we have seen, am constantly changing. When the events of the past 6 weeks settle and I have quality time to reflect perhaps then I will notice change. This has been fast and furious – images and sounds surface occasionally.
As a composer I know my music will be influenced not neccessarily by the style but by the methods of the musicians we have met. As a human being I have been touched so many times by generosity and innocence I now feeled compelled to aspire to these qualities. The van pulls up outside a grey Russian hotel – another episode to produce. I think I will miss it all.
PAUL – Audio and Video
Invited to be the video and radio producer for this adventure I was both thrilled and anxious. What an opportunity. New lightweight digital cameras, together with digital sound recorders and world-class stereo microphones are powerful tools. This equipment offered a window on a little known culture. But what to record ?
I rose before dawn to capture the stunning architecture of Bukhara and Samarkand. The colourful markets and bazars, the vast steppe and the towering mountains, all providing the cultural context for the music.
In a great effort of will I recorded a static video of most of our musicians – the shot that records for a digital eternity, how you play the dutar or the Kashgar rebab – somebody might want to know! Other shots show those characterful faces and gnarled hands.
There are no plans to show any of our 30 hours of video or to broadcast any of our 25 hours of stereo audio. That seems a terrible pity. Sadly there is little room in broadcasting these days for stories of people and their music
I hope one day this material will surface, perhaps on TV or radio, perhaps in new media? The DVD ROM looms on the horizon.
This has been the strangest contract of my 30 year career – writer, cameraman, sound recordist, AV producer & director and guitarist – I have given everything I know to try to do justice to all these roles.
Unexpected roles included unloading an aircraft and riding a nomad horse across the Kazak steppe.
It’s been an experience. I would like to share that experience. To tell a story.
I’ve thought a lot about the people we’ve met, some old, “the last of my kind” like Ari (day 12), some young like Aygul (day 37). A poem emerged. I’ve never understood how a poem grows, Ted Hughes told me poems are like animals with a life of their own – this one doesn’t bite.
MUSIC SURVIVES THROUGH USE
Paul Balmer ©1997
Old men carry treasure,
The gift of centuries.
Young men burn, with voices unheard.
The tradition must live
In both their houses.
Rhythm is the fuel of the dance,
The heartbeat, the maternal flame.
Mothers sing and children learn,
Stories are forever.
The voice, the pen, the computer,
They all have their moment.
A melody bends to the needs of men,
Words are re-invented.
The chant continues
For birth and death.
We are all just vessels,
Tomorrow’s dust.
KATHRIN – Organiser and Photographer
It is very hard to summarise the journey now. The last 38 days have been an explosion of the senses. It has been an emotional journey and even though I have been very ill for the past week this has not deterred my enthusiasm. The people of Central Asia are passionate and have a tradition and culture that captivates me.
After two months of organising this most complex project I expected some ‘moments.’ The best times were when everything came together and the names of the musicians on the paper turned into real people, and real experiences. All those sleepless nights were then worth it. Meeting a such wide range of special people made the everyday organisation and bureaucracy a wonderful adventure.
There have been a few organisational mishaps. More to do with the region than anything else, and most were not serious. Things ran remarkably to plan considering the amount that could have gone wrong!
No one could have thought though that Jan, Paul and Gary would have to unload the whole of the plane at Tashkent Airport (See Day 6). That the expected ensemble at Baysun had left for Tashkent the day before we arrived (See day 16) – after a long days drive from Bukhara instead of staying in musicians homes we slept in a derelict ‘daja’. Transport unpredictably ranged from luxury mobile homes to rust-on-wheels, from 1950s high wheel base army vehicles to limo-like Volga’s.
The most important aspects of our musical journey have been to explore the countries and to meet the people of Central Asia. As the project’s chemical photographer I wanted to capture those fleeting moments when people connect with other people. The cultural context, past traditions and their instruments are other images I photographed. I believe as a team of very different personalities we’ve been able to achieve a great deal although it seems that there has never been enough time to explore further and in more depth.
I was the only member of the team able to communicate directly with the musicians (through Russian & German). Having been previously introduced I could, as well as open doors for the team communicate on a much more personal level. After the usual formal three hours of recording and interviewing, the musicians were more relaxed and were happy to share more about themselves with me.
One example of this occurred in the ‘Town of Masters’ (Day 33) when I met Tolegen, a kobuz maker. We talked about music, ancient rituals, nature and compared the komuz with the cello, which is my instrument. He said he would make me a special kobuz. A day prior to our departure, he hitchhiked to Almaty to offer me a ‘Shamanistic’ kobuz he had made. He then promised to make me an instrument which he wanted me to play. I will return soon to see him again.
Other special memories included my encounters with Raushan (Day 4 and Day 32). She gave me a brief masterclass on the kobuz and offered me one of hers. My encounter with Barkut in Bishkek (Day 28) was also personal as he came to see us on our return from Issyk-Kul and gave me a temir komuz (Jew’s harp). He had made it on the day we met.
There were many other countless situations when I walked away with much more than I was allowed to give, the people of Central Asia have been so generous and interested to share with us, this will be unforgettable for me.
Day 9 – Red Tape Hell, Musical Heaven
Posted by Gary Hayes in Daily Blog on August 6, 1997
Having been out of action for a while I have not been able to tell you about our meeting with Pattahon Mamadaliev. Sometimes it’s difficult to interview musicians here because of their modesty . if you ask them about themselves they will naturally represent themselves in a very humble way. Pattahon is a good example of this.A respected maqam performer he is particularly famous for his wedding singing in the Fergana style. He is professor at Tashkent state Conservatoire and has performed numerous times on TV and Radio. In fact, the people working in our hotel were thoroughly surprised to see him sitting in their dining room. Perhaps the thing that most distinguishes him is his status as a composer. Pattahon was the first musician to be awarded the honorary title of Hafiz by the new administration after independence. This title is used in the Islamic World to describe one who has learned the Koran by heart, but it can also refer to a master musician. Pattahon is not only an interpreter, he also composes maqam music and texts.
I always enjoy watching older musicians who have played for years, they often have a minimalist style, an economy of expression. Pattahon plays as if his tanbur is a part of him and his voice still retains a power which belies his seventy years. Interestingly when we asked about the age of the tanbur he said it was not old, only fifty years.
As Pattahon’s life spans much of the period of Soviet rule in Uzbekistan I was keen to ask him about the changes that had come about. Both he and Abdurahim were clear that it had been an ill conceived experiment on the part of the Russians to try to change the musical tradition here. They felt it to be a tribute to the strength of the music and the peoples’ feeling for it that it had survived. Sasha our interpreter and musicologist companion pointed out that this viewpoint was fairly nationalistic and not necessarily representative of all musicians in the country, although there is much evidence that Soviet Cultural Policy had set out to repress the music. Sasha can be heard translating this viewpoint in an excerpt from the interview.This day was to be special for the project. A high ranking official from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was going to make customs give us our satellite phone. We left for the airport at 9 am in triumphant frame of mind believing we would return within the hour. At 2 pm two bedraggled people walked through the door, black satellite phone in hand. We had been through red tape hell. The country may have reached independence but the old Russian way of doing things remains fully intact. An endless stream of grey concrete ‘huts’ scattered randomly around a wide, bland pot-holed road leading away from the airport. Sleepy Army soldiers guard rusty gates and several stages of payment, slips of paper and rubber stamps get you in.

Over a roaring fire a large wok containing gallons of water. Lumps of dirty raw meat and vegetables, sit bubbling away in the middle of one of the yards – who is it for? The atmosphere of the place is slow and still, certainly not an area bubbling with efficiency. The various stages that Uzbekistan customs ask you to go through to acquire your own property is excruitiatingly painful when like us, you are in a rush. The paperwork and arguments burn irretrievably into the memory of all who pass through each ‘hut of frustration’.Though I’m still unwell, I’m keen to see how the new satellite is shaping up. I descend the stairs to find Gary and Paul surrounded by 100 pieces of wreckage – I can’t believe it, the replacement satellite has possibly been corrupted in transit and they are trying to trace an obvious fault. Despite all their efforts the team cannot find one, desperate calls to England are hampered when we can’t get a phone line. I retire to a safe distance, Gary and Paul are not happy. Ten minutes later I am awoken by a combined banging and throbbing – what now? Peering through the door I see Gary manfully priming a petrol generator and Paul planting an earth spike in the dusty courtyard. There wasn’t enough current in the local electricity supply to even work a soldering iron, so this is the solution – make your own electricity. It’s bizarre seeing all this sophisticated satellite gear driven by a petrol generator.
We are told a third satellite transmitter will be hand delivered in a few days to Bukhara. Please stick with us we are doing everything we can, normal ‘service’ will commence shortly.
Day 2 – I didn’t realise it would happen on the second day!
Posted by Gary Hayes in Daily Blog on July 30, 1997
“I had hoped that during this trip I would have the chance to play the flute alongside some of the musicians I had encountered. I didn’t realise it would happen on the second day!”
The museum of Kazak Musical Instruments has a surreal air about it. It’s a wooden ‘fairy-tale’ castle enclosed in a cocoon of Soviet administrative architecture. Surreal also because as you enter the building there is a feeling of setting foot in a timeless world of ancient practice and frozen tradition. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, the treasures inside slowly emerge. A large map of Kazakstan clearly displays the instruments of each of its regions. A few surprises for me – is that an ocarina near Almaty? Are harps so widely used throughout Kazakstan?
The six or so rooms that constitute the Museum are devoted mainly to three things. The composers of Kazak music (many of whom were once politicians in the Soviet system), the instruments (many originals used by the composers themselves) and some ancient artefacts which illustrate the origins of Kazak music. The rather sad looking musical instruments are ceremoniously displayed behind glass cases, deprived of a musicians touch. A small button now allows you to hear wonderfully ‘grainy’ recordings of their instruments. The playing sounds remarkably authentic and has an honesty about it. Some highlights include a bass dombra, presumably scaled up to provide the ‘low end’ to Russian designed Kazak ensembles and a selection of a horse hair string instruments. One of these is very similar to the West African “khallam” (from the Wolof people).
As we wandered around engrossed we were joined by Abylai, our friend who yesterday invited us to join him and his ensemble for a performance and chat about his world.Later I endeavoured to talk with Abylai a little about himself and about music. He was born in China, of Chinese parents, and went to a Kazak School. There is a large Kazak population in China, where the peoples are quite integrated. It was here that he acquired a taste for Kazak music. He studied music in Peking and since coming to Kazakstan in 1975 has been increasingly involved in local music. As something of a “musical nomad” himself he is liable to give you a list of all the styles of music he is able to play. He played us a musical medley which seemed to encompass most of Asia and considerable parts of Southern Europe. It was impossible to fathom the full depth of his knowledge in this short encounter. In one respect he emulates his mentor Al Farabi, he is a polymath, a philosopher, a performer and composer. Al Farabi is a famous name in Islamic scholarship, mostly for his Kitab al-musiqi al-kabir (the great book of music). This is a widely translated classic. Al Farabi was a true Hakim in the Islamic tradition, a man of wide learning. His scholarship extended to the religious sciences; mathematics, philosophy, astrology,physics and so on. Most importantly he was keen to convey the connections between these areas of knowledge which science now views as separate disciplines. Abylai could have talked to us for days about Al Farabi, as he had written about him extensively. My curiosity was certainly aroused and I made a mental note to do some reading-up when I get home. What else I could discover about this almost legendary figure from musicians here in Central Asia? Another important figure in Abylai’s opinion was Yasavi, a Sufi poet composer whose Mausoleum was depicted in the Museum. He performed a song composed by Yasavi. At this point Abylai’s voice lowered and his countenance became more reverent. We were all moved by this performance.
It was clear that in some ways at least Kazak music has changed little and the fact that the melodies we heard today are from the nomadic period seems to support this. Elsewhere, this way of life is still alive, even though these professional performance ensembles seem to be an urban, post 1917 phenomenon. The Soviet system seems to have been a mixed blessing. Whilst state ensembles were supported and musicians were paid, it may have brought about some changes in the music. Since independence, a living still has to be made and this means that the ensembles now frequently travel abroad to perform their music.Abylai was very keen for us to hear a ‘traditional’ ensemble. They gathered ‘concert style ‘ in their own auditorium in the museum . This curious round space, shaped like a yurt tent is made of wood and has an extraordinary resonance.

The instruments played were; two dombra, an accordion (probably from Russia) a bass dombra, a shetigen (a zither which probably originated here and travelled the silk road to become the Japanese koto), a frame drum with two heads (unusual), some castanets made of animal hooves (very loud) and an ulbek (an ocarina). The ensemble also featured a jaws harp, apparently a very ancient instrument.I had hoped that during this trip I would have the chance to play the flute alongside some of the musicians I had encountered. I didn’t realise it would happen on the second day! Mayra the dombra and ocarina player taught me a Kazak melody. This haunting but simple melody fits easily into our Western diatonic scale, yet somehow it has a decidedly non-European feel.

Music is too often cited as the international language but this time it worked. It will be interesting to see how I get on with the musicians further afield in Uzbekistan and the Fergana Valley
Tomorrow should present more opportunities for exploring East-West fusions. The Voice of Asia festival starts this evening. Log on tomorrow for a live update.

Throughout the market there are stalls (often metal buckets with fruit in them), entertainers and chaikhana’s (small tables on which to sip tea). Paul was able to finally buy a belt for his decreasing waist and I was attracted by a lonely flutist, busking in a secluded corner. He was blind and gave the traditional open palm, hands over face to accept blessings whenever he felt some money land in his lap. He occasionally played a haunting Maqam-type melody and I was moved, not just by the music but by his obvious predicament. Not far from the flute player three young boys entertained.One was supplying the ‘come and see’ music on a Western snare drum beating a marching rhythm while circling the younger ones. They performed acrobatics and increasingly dangerous manoevres over broken glass and nails. I didn’t stay for the tricks they had planned for later in the act, some of the sharp implements were bigger than the boy’s themselves. Before we left the bazar I was struck by an image, a series of steps leading back up to the second level. On each side women sold bread as smoke from Shashlyk stands billowed across many brightly coloured metal ornamental stalls. This was where local people came to do their daily business, where you can eat good food for a tenth of the price of the Hamburger joints in the centre of town. Gary is right, this is the real Tashkent.
In the serene calm of the hall we met Munadjat Yulchieva and her teacher and mentor Shavkat Mirzaev – if this wasn’t enough of a daunting prospect it was also to be our first encounter with the ancient Shash Maqam tradition of Central Asia.
During this trip we have been lucky enough to meet musicians who are national celebrities. They have been relaxed, accessible people who possess great humility. Munadjat and Shavkat are no exception.