One More from the Throat

I picture the inside of my brain as looking a lot like my grandmother's basement did when I was a kid: there's some useful stuff in there, but it's also a kind of last stop for all kinds of weird odds and ends accumulated over many decades, and nobody really knows when or how most of that stuff got there or what it might be good for. When I was recently poking through Grandma's basement (metaphorically speaking, that is) I stumbled across the box labeled "Tuvan throat singing" and felt compelled to see what I could find on YouTube on this subject, and in fact found quite a bit of material there. A lot of what I found was clips of performances by a group called Huun Huur Tu.

But let's back up for a moment. Tuva is a small republic in southern Siberia that borders Mongolia. Part of the Tuvans' cultural heritage is a musical technique called throat singing, by which the singer produces multiple overtones simultaneously over a basis that is a sort of guttural drone. It's hard to describe; you need to hear it for yourself.

Fast-forward to one day last week, when I was browsing through the entertainment section of the morning paper. That's about the only section of the daily paper that I read on a regular basis, since much of what's in the regular news I've already heard on NPR or read online by the time I see it in the paper. I saw that Huun Huur Tu was going to be performing in Cambridge, MA, which is not far from where I live. One of my two new year's resolutions is to listen to more music (I'll tell you more on that topic some other time), so I thought it would be nice to leave the kids home and go see their concert with My Favorite Wife, i.e., just the two of us, since we just don't get out together as often as we should. Our kids are now at an age where they aren't all that interested in being dragged along with their parents everywhere anyway; the mere suggestion of a family outing now mostly results in an extended session of eye-rolling or worse.

I was pretty sure this was something that MFW would enjoy, but just as sure that if I told her we were going to see a Tuvan throat singing group, she would most likely assume I was dragging her to see some ridiculous stunt that was going to be amusing for about the first two minutes and then mostly just annoying after that, and the answer would be "no" right off. I seem to have a reputation around the house as having a sort of offbeat taste in music, and my judgment is often disregarded when selecting musical entertainment. So I just told her we were going to hear a style of music that she has probably never heard of but that she would like a lot. She was pretty skeptical, but agreed to go along.

Both kids were aware that we were going to a concert, but I didn't tell them what it was either because I didn't want the surprise spoiled. My daughter asked me, "Is this some really indie band?" Well, yes, I guess you could call it that.

As it turned out, MFW almost didn't go along because my son decided that day would be a good one for coming down with the flu. Here we can observe a certain divergence of parenting styles. When one of the kids gets sick, especially now that they are teenagers, I tend to follow the standard procedure of recommending plenty of rest and maybe some chicken soup unless the symptoms are something really extraordinary; MFW, on the other hand, generally assumes that any illness is terminal until proven otherwise. She thinks I take these things way too lightly, but I have been sent by MFW to the ER with one of the kids one time too many at 2 AM, only to have the doctor appear after hours of waiting to tell me that it was some really mundane bug, as I had more or less already assumed. So initially she announced that I would have to find someone else to take her ticket while she stayed home to comfort the suffering. I called up a few friends. One was genuinely interested but had a prior commitment; another was out of town. As for the rest, I explained what sort of concert I was proposing to attend and then there was silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a declination. Fortunately, as it turned out, Filius sustained a miraculous recovery after I administered the miracle drug Tylenol and a glass of water, and MFW then decided she would go along after all.

The remaining challenge was that MFW had another commitment she had to take care of before we left for the concert, meaning we would leave about an hour before the scheduled start of the show. It takes about half an hour to get to Cambridge from our house, so that wouldn't be a big deal if we were going anywhere but Cambridge. The problem is that the part of Cambridge we were going to, near the Harvard campus, is a crazy maze of one-way streets where finding a parking space is a pretty hit-or-miss affair. I absolutely dread driving there, especially for something like a concert that is going to start at a certain time whether I am there or not. You might find a spot in a few minutes or you might cruise around a half hour or more, by which time you will not only still be looking for a free space, but will also be hopelessly lost. The fact that the recent snowstorms have left enormous piles of snow everywhere and limited parking possibilities even further just added to my parking anxiety. But to my great surprise and relief the parking gods were gracious unto us, and we managed to get to the concert venue in plenty of time.

All I can tell you is that it was really worth the trouble. If you ever get a chance to see these guys, by all means do. They were amazingly accomplished musicians who put on a great show. So I will leave you now with a couple of samples of what I had the pleasure to experience live.

Huun Huur Tu: Chiraa-Khoor

Huun Huur Tu: Orphan's Lament