Posts Tagged India

Day 14 – To succeed this project must be interactive

14gidy1.gifIn the same way that a musician craves an audience I must hear from you. I invite you to help produce this exploration into Central Asian music – do you wish to know more about vocal music or instrumental? Are you interested in the related art of dance? Looking back on the previous pages, did we leave any questions unanswered? Are you gaining a clearer picture of this rich culture? Would you like to hear more from any of the featured musicians? – we have up to three recordings of each player. Are we telling you enough about the cultural context? Are you interested in the history, the religion or indeed the politics? We can’t promise all the answers, we will give it our best. Be a director in this bold new medium, I invite you to call the shots.

Meeting Ulmas Rasulov, Uzbekistan’s foremost classical ghidjak player, was an unforgettable 14gidy2.gifexperience. The ghidjak is a spike fiddle and has many similarities to the violin. It has a short neck attached to a gourd shaped soundboard and has a slightly shrill timbre which can only be controlled by very experienced players. Ulmas, who is totally blind, communicates straight from the heart with an incredible openess and honest sensitivity. He has an awareness of the people around him that transcended his lack of sight. He talked to Kathrin and she found it a wonderful surprise to hear that the cello is his favourite European instrument. He suggested she immediately get a cello and play a few duets with him. Ulmas has a great passion for European music, especially Spanish and although the pieces he played were traditional, they exhibited influences far and wide. He played with a deeply felt passion and intensity that touched us all.

14nash.gifUlmas told us later that the ghidjak “connects with the heart and soul of the people in Central Asia.” To him this is sacred music, “the music of God”. He feels that together with the sato (another bowed string instrument) and surnai (a reed instrument), the ghidjak comes closest to the human voice. He adds that the voice is the most important ‘instrument’ here and all other instruments aspire to its qualities.”In post-Islamic and pre-revolutionary Transoxania the whole of artistic culture, literature, music and architecture was based on Sufi ideas.”
Alexander Djumaev (Sasha)

14koran.gifOn our travels I’ve had many opportunities to chat to our friend and musical adviser, Dr Alexander Djumaev. Sasha is a leading musicologist and historian who is particularly interested in the relationship between Sufism and culture. He is a mine of information and has been responsible for introducing us to some extraordinary musicians. I too have become extremely interested to discover more about a mystical tradition that has inspired such an extraordinary culture. As part of this quest I felt it would be important to visit the tomb of Bahauddin Naqsband who is a ‘patron saint’ here in Bukhara.

The tomb is now part of a large complex which includes a mosque, an old dervish house, a museum, a cafe, gardens and of course the gnarled old mulberry tree, reputedly planted by Bahauddin himself. Legend has it that wishes will be granted and women made fertile by passing under the tree three times. There is the air of a tourist complex about the place. It is not until you approach the tomb that the intensity of feeling he engenders becomes apparent. A Koran reciter sits under a shady tree, people join him to have suras recited for dead relatives or just to hear them. An elderly gentleman’s voice chokes with emotion as he prays. The pleading and emploring in his voice makes me feel somewhat uncomfortable. It is like witnessing someone’s distress. This is the same yearning that comes across in some of the music we have heard here, especially maqam.People bring their children here and walk three times around the tomb for luck. Women kiss and stroke the old mulberry tree. Whether or not any of those people maintain a practical connection with the Sufi tradition is unclear.

14jwish.gifLong beforethe revolution the Naqsbandi Order travelled to Turkey and India. There are now branches of the order all over the world. It is undergoing a revival, instigated by influences from outside. I do not know if I have discovered anything new
today, but I have gained an insight into the devotion that people here have for this great Sufi teacher.

Tomorrow I go, for the first time, into the mountains near Baysun to seek out a Bakshy and the legendary Baysun Ensemble.

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Day 11 – A great deal of what we see depends on what we are looking for

11samar.gifAt last I hit the old silk road although now it’s cotton that lines the highway. I travel in hope from Tashkent to Bukhara, the Holy City. Hot miles of fields, the vanishing point defined by incongruous power lines. Was this really the road trodden by Ghengis Khan, Marco Polo and Timur. It is 90 degrees in the shade but the only shade is an 11th century Caravanserai, and even that crumbles, returns to sand. Hundreds of miles of overgrown irrigation ditches are the only vestige of some bold ten year plan. At a tiny oasis beneath an exotic maple? I take chai and admire the local faces.

Back on the road a combine harvester reaps the Nomad plain. From a hill I catch my first sight of Samarkand, Bibi Khanum. The dome shimmers blue in the midday haze.

11tomb.gifNot far outside Samarkand lies the tomb of Imam Ismail Al Bukhari, an important figure in early Islamic history. He is famous for collecting Hadith, or stories of the life of the prophet Mohammed. As Bahadir, our driver, wanted to pray we thought we would have a look around. The entrance to the mosque complex opens into a serene and tranquil garden with artificial lakes and fountains. Venerable looking gentlemen sit on the “Iwan” or raised platforms, characteristic of all Central Asian chaikanas or teahouses. As people slowly gather for the Friday prayers chatting and catching up with news, I notice that everyone is in their equivalent of Sunday Best. Older men in their silk frock coats, knee length leather boots, sashes and turbans, women in colourful silks.

11water.gifAlthough people tend to cover their heads out of respect it doesn’t seem compulsory. Visitors are welcome to stay in the gardens to watch the prayers as long as they show some decorum. This is a holy place but there is an overriding tolerance and hospitality. These are not values that people in the West often associate with Islam. Even Paul tottering around with his DV camera and tripod, hat on head didn’t attract any curiosity. Perhaps there have not yet been enough intrusive or inquisitive Westerners here to make a nuisance of themselves. During prayers I spent some time by the tomb itself and afterwards was joined by many people from the mosque. The gardens and tomb have a timelessness about them to be enjoyed by all.

11jnmeat.gifLunch is at the local ‘greasy spoon’, a lorry stop. I sample lamb stew and potatoes and admire the ancient bread oven almost biblical in simplicity. As the miles drag on I try and imagine the scene before the 20th century scarred the landscape. Ill thought out irrigation schemes and rusty power lines are sad monuments to leave our children.

We arrive in Bukhara at sunset. The golden glow permeates everything especially the overwhelming sandy colours of the buildings. We are staying in a local B&B with a fabulous, ornately painted wooden verandah overlooking a central courtyard, a wonderful location for musicians – perhaps we will invite some here. The B&B is next to a central square and pool called Labi-hauz which has, according to Gary who was here before, lost all its ‘old Bukharan’ charm. The renovations taking place for the 2500th year anniversary in a few weeks has turned it into a clean yet bland square complete with plastic white tables, chairs and ghetto blaster music. I feel quite sad that my vision of a Holy City is initially shattered by so much modern influence – the Coke and Kodak syndrome is starting to take a hold. After dinner we stroll in the dark city. The domes of the mosques, tall madrassahs and dominating minarets cloaked in black seem to exhude centuries of wisdom. Perfect silhouettes against the starry, moonlit sky, the night hides some failings.

11bksky.gifA canal runs down Bukharas main street, carrying with it both life and death – much needed water which in the past has carried many diseases. We turn a corner and see an entrance through a large wooden gate. This leads into a barely lit courtyard and on a board above a chaikana table hangs a dazzling array of Central Asian instruments – tanburs, tars, satos and doiras (frame drums). I am in the market for a frame drum and these look particularly well made and playable. The maker of the instruments takes me to his workshop hidden behind some trees. A small room is filled with half finished instruments. Drying animal skins and the smell of freshly cut timber give the impression that here is a professional craftsman. Newspaper cuttings show him and some musical diginitaries smiling to camera. Paul meanwhile is attempting to see if any of the local players have heard of a vocal technique for articulating the rhythms or ‘usul’ of frame drums, similar to that used in India. Sadly they all look bemused, another preconception shattered. After a short session playing with the locals, I am interested in purchasing one of the drums. I am told it costs $150, this is definitely too high as I know $75 is a good price and tell them I will return in a few days. It is too late for a long drawn out haggle session, anyway who’s gonna carry all this stuff! As we wind our way back, the wind whistles around the small ‘venetian-like’ streets, curtains are sucked out of windows and bats play in the tungsten streams of light. This is going to be interesting.

11duira.gifOn my return to the B&B there seems to have been some confusion, there is no room at the inn. Tonight I sleep outside.

“When you sleep in a house your thoughts are as high as the ceiling, when you sleep outside they are as high as the stars” (Bedouin proverb)

Tomorrow join me as we meet Ari, a player of the Kashgar Rebab. We are told he is the last of his kind.

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Day 8 – The Land of Lutes

The Land of Lutes

Every journey has it’s trials and today we’re having our fair share. Last night I was struck down with a bug, without going into graphic detail. I am now laid up in bed unable to be of much use to anyone. As if this were not enough Gary and Kathrin are at various Government Departments wading through acres of red tape. The officials in Tashkent are very suspicious about our new imported Satellite transmitter – are we really James Bondski? Only a letter from the Minister of Foreign Affairs can convince them to release this much needed lifeline. Without this we cannot continue our dialogue or bring you the exciting music we have been hearing. We hope we will soon be ‘on-line’ eager to reply to your e-mails. Only Paul is left back at the ranch, Dat machine in one hand, camera in the other. He loves it really! While I catch up on much needed sleep I leave you in his capable hands. I know he’s dying to tell you about lutes.

07bedutr.gifAs one of the guitarists and sitarist in our team I’m fascinated by the ‘lutes’ we encounter. I’ve just been lent a dutar by Abdurahim Hamidov. Living with the dutar, having it around my room playing it, I feel invited in to a sort of magic. It has made me incredibly aware of the close relationship between all these Central Asian instruments and most of the world’s ‘lutes’. The two-stringed dombras and dutars have all the latent characteristics of the guitar, the Oud and the sitar. The tuning in fourths (and fifths), the tendency to play parallel patterns up and down the fingerboard – the modal scales are all common to these more familiar instruments. The rasguedo of the dutar is almost “flamenco” in character. The vibrato and portamento techniques are reminiscent of the classical Oud of Arabia.

If the lute began in Central Asia as many scholars believe, what fascinating journeys it has made – into China, India, Arabia and Europe – taking new names and new shapes but retaining its Central Asian roots.

07abdru.gifAbdurahim Hamidov who I met today is an incredible virtuoso on the dutar. He also knows many of the other lutes of the area and explained their relationship. According to Abdurahim the dombra which we heard a lot of in Kazakstan is primarily a folk instrument. Though if you refer back to Day 4, you can hear that Aygul Ulkenbaeva is now taking the dombra to a more sophisticated level.Abdurahim regards his dutar as a classical instrument, especially in the context of the Shash maqam though he often performs solo as well as accompanying singers.

Physically, the dutar is more sophisticated and highly decorated with beautifully made silk strings instead of the factory produced nylon strings of the dombra. Curiously his dutar retains its modal scale – it has not been ‘improved’ to a fully chromatic version (yet!). Abdurahim also asserts that his dutar has different tunings; in fourths, fifths and unison whereas he alleges the dombra doesn’t (I’m not convinced).

I encountered another fascinating lute yesterday, the Kashgar rubab played by Munajat’s teacher Shavkat Mirzaev. This is a five string lute with four metal and one silk string – an unusual mix. The silk string is very thick and provides a rich bass. The four metal strings are arranged in two pairs and are used for melody. The rubab has a haunting sound enhanced by its parchment sounding board and the harmonic richness of those pairs of metal strings. There are superficial relationships here to the saz of Turkey and the bouzouki of Greece. Earlier, in a taxi I heard the local version of Greek popular music or Rembetika – it’s a strange and wonderful world.

08patta.gifWow, another lute – today we met Pattahon Mamadaliev, a fantastic 70 year old guy. He sings with a consuming passion and accompanies himself on the tanbur. It has four bronze strings. In India bronze is a sacred metal, I must check out its significance here. The tanbur has very thick gut frets to enable a deep vibrato, it’s made from mulberry and apricot. Pattahon possesses an intensity of performance and a sincere unmannered humility. I played some Spanish lute music for the musicians, Pattahon and Abdurahim. Abdurahim said he understood this 15th century lute music perfectly, which is interesting. This music is very polyphonic ‘in many parts’ as opposed to most Central Asian music which is often monodic. They also enjoyed a bit of pseudo-Flamenco – this is also interesting as Pattahon’s passion and style is reminiscent of Canto Joto from Andalucia in Southern Spain, a deep form of flamenco. Somebody must have told the lute to “go forth and multiply “- I’m ever more convinced that the lute family originated here as most scholars assert.

I’m currently in the lap of luxury – our little guest house even has a tiny swimming pool. I banged my head trying it out – perhaps it will knock some sense into me? The food here is the best so far in Central Asia – delicious Vegetarian stuff – not that common in the land of the rising Kebab.

I08paulbd.gif got caught last night serenading five Muslim girls in their bedroom – their father just laughed and went to bed – not the expected reaction. The girls enjoyed a Bo-Diddly song but thought Shash maqam was ‘pretty cool’. They are on holiday from Chicago, so that probably explains their frankly modern behaviour. Jan still has the “montezumas revenge”, so retires early. Kathrin and Gary are simply exhausted, endless wrangling and still we can’t get our satellite out of customs.

Tomorrow, who knows?

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