Gaura Vani & As Kindred Spirits have been called by yoga chant veteran Jai Uttal, "simply the most wonderful kirtan band in the Western world." A traditional kirtan band at their roots, As Kindred Spirits pepper their music with new sounds, outside influences and interesting sonic combinations. Take for instance "Sleeping Soul (Jiv Jago)", which infuses Western Gospel music with Indian kirtan, or the powerful heart-call of the acoustic balled "Surrender," a type of song you don't normally hear on a kirtan album. (Both songs, which you can hear below, are from the album Ten Million Moons.)
"Sleeping Soul (Jiv Jago)"
"I think gospel, qawwali music, kirtan and other ecstatic music are all the same thing. Not the same in the sense that everyone's exactly the same. Everyone has their own unique differences and it's our differences that create that beautiful diversity. But in the sense that they're all being fed by the same divine source, that underground river... [and] I feel like gospel music is a sister tradition." (Gaura Vani)
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"Surrender"
"The saints and teachers of the kirtan tradition say that we should cry like a child for his mother. Rumi, the Sufi poet from a different tradition, says that we should be like the whining dogs calling for our master. This mood of a genuine heart cry is essential to the kirtan tradition. So the song "Surrender" was my attempt to write a song that does that in a language we're familiar with in English." (Gaura Vani)
In music, it is said that the master first learns the fundamentals, then learns to play with music, and finally surrenders to let music play through him. This adage was very much evident during Ustad Zakir Hussain and Pandit Shivkumar Sharma’s performance at the Lucas Theater on Wednesday, March 31 in Savannah, Georgia as part of the world renowned Savannah Music Festival. For more than two hours these two revered masters of their instruments- Hussain, the tabla and Sharma, the Santoor- held the audience mesmerized and in one spirit as they played their way through both Indian classical and folk songs.
The evening began with a standing ovation from the audience as both musicians took the stage. Both then sat slowly with reverence to their undertaking, crossing their legs in traditional fashion. Pandit Sharma, born in Jammu, India is the undisputed master on santoor (Sharma began his career on tabla so naturally knows how to react to what a tabla player is doing, making this is a perfect pairing with Hussain) and is one of India’s most honored film composers. Sharma then began the process of delicately tuning his instrument. The santoor is akin to a hammer dulcimer as we know it in the western world and consists of as few as 24 to more than 100 strings. Sharma’s tuning of his instrument took a few minutes. As he tapped the many strings with two thin, intricately carved wooden mallets and adjusted the pitch, the audience was silent with wonder and anticipation. Hussain sat patiently by Sharma’s side, eyes closed, occasionally stretching his fingers as he prepared his hands and mind for the performance.
The first song of the evening was a northern Indian or Hindustani classical raag. Raag is defined in the Sanskrit dictionary as "the act of coloring or dyeing". In music, this description applies to the impressions of melodic sounds on both the artists and listeners. A raag consists of both mandatory and discretionary rules governing the melodic movements of notes within a performance such as certain specific notes, order of ascending and descending, octave emphasis, pacing between notes, and even the time of day and/or season when the raag may be performed. This is all done to invoke the emotions of the raag for highest impact on the mental and emotional state of the performer and listener. Sharma’s santoor delicately sang with alternating plucks and strokes, slowly setting the mood and foundation of the raag so that later the music would have wings to fly. Once Sharma had set the tone for the raag and improvised sufficiently to establish roots he began preparing for Hussain to join him on the tabla by adjusting and increasing the rhythm.
Ustad Hussain enters the song establishing the taal. Just as the ‘note’ is the basis of the melodic component of music, the taal is established early on by setting a matching pace to the melodic performer, thus providing the rhythmic foundation for the melodic improvisation. Born in Mumbai, Hussain began playing at 12. He is a two time Grammy award winner (2009 is his most recent Grammy) and has composed for, and recorded with, some of the top names in all genres of Western music, including members of The Grateful Dead, George Harrison, Yo Yo Ma, Bela Fleck, Edgar Meyer and John McLaughlin. He has composed for films (his is the music you hear in the soundtrack to the movie Apocalypse Now) and for the 1996 Olympic Games. His father was Ustad Alla Rakha, the tabla player who worked with sitar master Ravi Shankar for more than 20 years, including the groundbreaking performances at the Monterey Pop Festival and the Concert for Bangladesh.
What unfolded over the course of the next two hours is beyond words; I can only try and describe the wave of emotions pouring through me as the music played out onstage and into the audience. My finest written words would forever fail to do justice. Yes, hearing is the best manner of enjoying the unfolding of improvisational musical mastery but one can gain an entire new insight into the mystical and spiritual side of the music by watching the faces and hands of the performers as they play. The level of communication taking place between Hussain and Sharma through their eye contact, their smiles to each other and their hand gestures is similar to trying to describe the magic of the music. The messages and conveyances shared between the two with glances, grins, nods, and gestures while they were performing told a story of love, admiration, surprise, and illumination that one must witness to believe. The manner in which Sharma would play a pattern and then warmly smile at Hussain as he answered in rhythmic return was endearing - one that only a loving, life-long friend would offer. The comportment with which Hussain blasted his eyes wide open from a halcyon daze or mouth the rhythms his hands were pounding out at lightning fast speeds and then whip his head in accenting emphasis revealed an enthrallment beyond the confines of the stage and audience.
Maestro violinist Daniel Hope and the Savannah Music Festival’s associate artistic director joined Hussain and Sharma for two, short improvisational pieces. Never before have I heard the violin paired with santoor and tabla. The result was extraordinary. It isn’t often one hears something so astonishingly original. The experience surely was as refreshing to the musicians as it was to the audience by the smiles on their faces as they concluded the evening’s performance and bowed respectfully to one another.
To witness such an incredible concert makes for a once in a lifetime event. Never again will I be able to hear or relate to this great music and masters in the same manner as before. I have heard and seen with my own ears and eyes and have been part of an experience with others that united us, at least momentarily in a wordless understanding. Music severs all barriers of division and lifts all spirits collectively to joyous heights. From this vantage point and with such lightness to our being old notions and ways of being fall away - all things become new.
Through changing times, powwow drum still the heartbeat of the people Written by JoKAY DOWELL for Nativetimes.com
Positive or not, change has come to the powwow arena and probably will continue to do so. But, some standards must be kept in order not to lose the culture entirely.
TAHLEQUAH, Okla. – To those lacking knowledge of Indian ways, the powwow drum in the center of the dance circle is an inanimate object made from stretched rawhide and wood used by singers who beat it to the rhythm of an unintelligible ‘chant.’ But to those who were reared in that circle, the drum is the heartbeat and spirit of the people, a living thing to be respected, for it holds healing power and carries ancient songs further into the future.
“In the Ottawa language, the words drum and heart are very close,” said respected Ottawa drummer and singer, Dr. Kevin Dawes. “When I first started (backyard) singing, long before I ever went out at a dance, I was told ‘Don’t just sit there and tap on it, being silly; that when I hit the drum I was talking to God.”
Like Dawes, Sac and Fox, Euchee and Pawnee men’s straight dancer Rusty Tiger remembers his first encounters with the instrument central to the powwow culture and the responsibility for its care.
“It involved ceremony,” he explained, “There were drum keepers in charge of this drum to cedar it off and pray…to take it out and let the sun shine on it, just like other living things that take their energy from the sun. When there was no sun they used the warmth of a fire to achieve a certain tone which enhanced the overall effect of the song and the drumbeat, giving life to the intent of the song by the composer. Have you ever heard a flat drum?”
Though powwows are social gatherings not held to the strict decorum of traditional ceremonies, there is a presumption of protocol, based on the beliefs and practices of the community in which the event is held. In one’s approach to the drum, there is an expectation of behavior that sometimes seems to be lost on some of the younger generation.
“We were told to watch the man leading the song, never raise our sticks higher than his; this is so foreign to the kids nowadays,” Dawes said. Tiger also noted that some of the youth who dance seem to be more interested in just their own particular contest than in the overall dance.
“This is also going to the way side due to the non-interest of the young dancers today, too busy visiting and conserving energy for their particular contest, most are just walking around. I was always taught to dance each song as if you were contesting, you are there to dance, sit down and be quiet, until it was time to get up again. If you wanted to visit or half-dance don’t even get dressed,” he was taught.
Dennis Zotigh, Kiowa, San Juan Pueblo and Santee Dakota singer and dancer, now the community events coordinator at the Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian is in a position to continue to teach the ways of his family and emphasizes the potential for teaching respect around the drum.
“If I am going to the drum to sing, I should have good thoughts and feelings in general and toward the other singers. I need to be respectful when approaching the drum and know the protocols of the tribes I am singing with,” he said.
Along with teaching respect for culture and the differences in communities, the drum has healing powers.
Dee Dee Goodeagle is known all over the United States as a championship women’s buckskin dancer. Her dress is made from deer hides softened to a velvety texture then stitched with colorful patterns of floral and geometric designs. Now in her 70s, she recently relented to knee surgery, having worn out the joints from years of refined, deliberate steps that exemplify the southern or Oklahoma style of women’s dance.
“I blew them out,” Goodeagle said of her knees. “The doctors wanted me to have surgery for some time, but the drum makes me feel so good I didn’t want to have to stop dancing even to get my knees fixed.” Within weeks after surgery, Goodeagle said she went to a dance and could not resist the call of the drum. She is back in the arena going strong.
Zotigh explains that the drum is more than an instrument to provide cadence for the dancers. There is a spirit that each powwow drum, with its singers, diffuses into the dance arena. The interaction between the drum, the singers and the dancers is powerful with spiritual and physical energy.
“This spirit, if used in the right way, can heal those who cannot dance, those who are troubled and those who are weary,” Zotigh said.
Besides interacting with the drum to set the mood for the event, singers have a unique perspective on the powwow culture that comes from their central location within the dance arena.
“The spirit enhances you with a particular song and that is translated outwardly to the dancers first, then there is feedback from the dancers back to the drum, by the blowing of the whistle and the war hoop, or even the ‘loo-loo’ of the women when that connection is made. The energy is astounding when this happens,” Tiger said.
Dawes agreed and said even with a presumption of decorum, there are exceptions when the crowd is obviously enjoying the singing coming from the drum.
“When you sing you miss out on almost all of the dancing, period. You have to be aware of how the dancers are tuned in to the music. An older singer told us that the only reason we’re out there is to make the dancers dance. After 37 years of singing, I still can’t stand failing in that. On the flip side, it’s a huge blast to see someone in street clothes out there dancing because he’s enjoying the music. I’ve noticed that as I sing less and ‘lawn chair it’ more, it feels good to be at home and just get out there in my droopy jeans and dance to be close to the drum,” Dawes said. But powwows have changed and some say it has not been all positive.
“The powwow world has evolved enough to where we hear people say they were raised in the ‘traditional powwow way.’ Go figure. Nowadays, we go to a gathering expecting to get something (usually money), whereas, in the past, people usually brought something to give away. We need to acknowledge that what we see today is (the participation of) tribes who have adopted this drum (or the powwow lifestyle) as opposed to their own traditional ways and made it suit their needs,” Damon Roughface, who comes from a long lineage of traditional Ponca dancers and singers, said.
Positive or not, change has come to the powwow arena and probably will continue to do so. But, some standards must be kept in order not to lose the culture entirely. Kiowa singer and powwow emcee Kelly Anquoe noted without the drum there would be no powwow.
Dawes related the warning of his father, former Ottawa Tribal Chairman Charles Dawes, now deceased, who was also an emcee at some of the oldest powwows in Oklahoma. “Dad used to quote a man named Frank Jones who said, ‘The drum is the heartbeat of the Indian people and when the last drumbeat has sounded, the Indian way will be no more.’”
PHOTO: Ponca singer Ed Littlecook, in white hat, leads singers in a victory song during a summer dance at White Eagle, Okla. Photo by JoKAY Dowell
Jai on dreams, new directions and his latest album, Thunder Love
By Trevor Harden, trevor@rockom.net
In the world of American yoga/kirtan music, a small handful of prominent names rise to the top, one of which is Grammy-nominated musician Jai Uttal. Thunder Love, Jai's latest release (out March 24th on Nutone Records), marks a turning point in his career on both a professional as well as personal level. The album features Jai not only as a vocalist and interpreter of Sanskrit mantras, but also as an English-speaking songwriter and fuses sounds, elements and genres that are new to his ever-widening musical palette.
RockOm: Your musical/spiritual background and Nutone’s founder Terry McBride seem to be a perfect fit. How did you come to find a home at Nutone Records?
Jai: I was hearing about Terry for a while, but the last three albums have been on Sounds True, a smaller label. I’ve been really happy to not have a record deal with a major label as I’ve had very mixed experiences in the past. My relationship with Sounds True was a one-off, distribution deal and it felt really good to not be tied down to any label – to be totally free, totally independent. I was working on Thunder Love and because there was no label I spent a long, long time on it for a variety of reasons. But somewhere toward the end of the process I started to wonder, “What’s going to happen with this album that I’ve spent so much time making? How am I going to put it out?” Around this time I started to hear about Nutone, Terry and Nettwerk records. My first thought was, “Oh I don’t want to be on a label that has every other kirtan singer in the world on it.” I didn’t want to just be another part of the big soup pot. But I started thinking about it more and communicating with Terry and I saw that he’s a really beautiful guy with really good intentions, as well as a really solid [placement] in the marketplace. He’s very experienced and knows what he’s doing. He heard Thunder Love and really liked it and we said let’s do it – it sounds really fun! So far he seems very attentive, very respectful in a way that many people in the music business aren’t. As I’ve researched, I see this has always been his history, his M.O. – being really respectful of the artist.
RockOm: You’ve gone a fresh direction with this album – moving not away from kirtan, but delving more into Americana, roots, Brazilian, and electronic sounds. What inspired you to go this new direction on Thunder Love?
Jai: If I exclude the Sounds True recordings and look at all my Pagan Love Orchestra recordings, I feel like every album has been a pretty new direction but still rooted in the previous album. But on Thunder Love there are some really new elements for sure – one of them being the Brazilian. About nine years ago I met my wife Nubia and I feel like I married into another culture. She’s been drawing me so much into the Brazilian music and it’s been a great journey. Brazilian music is also so much more varied than most of us here in North America are aware. It’s not just bossa nova and samba and stuff. I have been so immersed in Indian music for so long that getting this fusion of this new world of music has been really inspiring to me musically. I started studying and listening, going on lots of trips to Brazil and I started taking Brazilian guitar lessons.
Then [regarding] the Americana side of Thunder Love… my first real, real musical love was old-timey banjo music when I was a teenager. All these years later I still play and love banjo. I don’t do it professionally, which is probably one of the reasons why I love it so much. It has popped up in a lot of my albums, but on Thunder Love I allowed it to come out more. One of the songs, “Down on My Knees,” is a mixture of an old-timey banjo tune with Brazilian rhythms and Tibetan chanting – how fun is that? And the rock, Indian and psychedelic aspects of my music have been there all along.
About five or six years ago, on one of the trips down to Brazil I was doing some shows with the guy who plays tabla and percussion with me. He was so happy and excited about how the Brazilian percussion can work with the Indian percussion. I tried to bring that out on Thunder Love and I think we can expect many more experiments in that realm from me in the future.
This album is also very different than the others in that there is so much [sung in] English. All of my Pagan Love Orchestra albums have one or two English songs, so certainly I continued over the years to be somewhat involved in that realm of songwriting but part of [doing a full album in English] was the feeling comfortable enough inside my own skin to go into a place that was scary – expressing myself with English words. It’s a whole different level of vulnerability and security that I finally felt able to explore. I pray in Sanskrit but the continual facilities of my mind think in English. I’m always writing stuff in English but have always felt a little too insecure to put it into a song. I negatively compare myself to Bob Dylan, John Lennon and everyone in the world – so I just wanted to take a chance. It was a big step; I don’t know if people are going to like it but I’m very happy with it.
RockOm: The album’s first track, “Bhavani Shankara,” uses a lot of these Brazilian sounds and lyrically it seems to speak of being lost in the divine and also the absence of the divine (“where have you gone?”). Can you share about your inspiration for this song?
Jai: My whole life I’ve had nightmares and very difficult sleeping experiences. I spent many years addicted to sleeping pills and thank goodness I’m not anymore. I used to bemoan it – "poor me, poor me, I can never sleep, I’m always having nightmares." Now I try to use this weird phenomena of strange dreams as a kind of self-exploration. It’s obviously my mind telling me something. I got into some dream therapy – and I don’t want to get into that too much right now – but that helped me explore what these dreams were for me. “Bhavani Shankara," and a couple other songs on the album, come out of that dream exploration and that feeling I’m so familiar with of waking up in the morning and feeling lost, alone, and afraid. But very quickly I look at my life and say, “Well, I’m not alone, there’s no reason to be afraid, everthing’s ok.” There’s a deep eternal dichotomy in life with such beauty, fulfillment and gratitude [alongside] this deep loneliness. I don’t know where it comes from – but I also know that in the tradition from India of bhakti or devotion, where all the chanting comes from, that the overlay of the feeling of separation and the feeling of oneness is very much is embraced. The times when you feel alone and stuck in longing are revered as much as the times you feel ecstatic. All of that goes into that song. I’m telling in English about what I’m feeling in my dreams and then offering it all to the Spirit in the Sanskrit prayer part. And also Shankara is called the Lord of Dreams.
RockOm: One of the other songs I wanted to ask you about, since so much of what you do is based on Indian spirituality, is the track “Adonai” (the Hebrew word for God). It sounds like something that could have come right out of the Christian and Jewish Psalms. Can you tell us what led you to write a song from that perspective?
Jai: I guess it was 14 years ago or so that I went on my first trip to Israel to perform. I am Jewish, my family was Jewish and I feel Jewish, although I don’t do many Jewish practices. [While in Israel,] I felt suddenly so connected to this ancient tribe and I composed this song “Shalom” and put it on the album Mondo Rama. I guess I’m a Hin-Jew [laughs]. I don’t feel that connection or participation in Jewish spiritual practices day to day, but I still feel part of it. So the song “Adonai” also came out of one of these dream therapy sessions where I was remembering some dreams based in Nazi Germany – that’s how this song started. But “Adonai,” it’s a beautiful word and [could be considered] just like a kirtan; all kirtan is is repeating the names of God.
By the way, one day before Hanukkah my three-year old boy was in the backseat of the car saying, “Adonai, Adonai, Adonai, Adonai…” It looked like he was in bliss and I asked him what he was doing. He said he was praying to Adonai and I said, “what are you praying for?” He said, “A police car!” [laughs] So that’s what we got him for Hanukkah and he said that Adonai had gotten it for him.
RockOm: Will you be hitting the road in support of the new album?
Jai: I hope so; I always seem to be hitting the road anyway. I want to figure out how to make a concert that is partially kirtan - because firstly I just love kirtan and secondly I love the way it brings the audience in, suddenly there’s no audience - but also present some of the songs from Thunder Love, which is more of an audience/performer type of thing. That’s the next challenge.
The kirtan thing is so amazing, going around the world, around the country. In doing kirtan the concert presentation is very simple – it’s usually just me and a tabla player. Just seeing how the group energy of the kirtan explodes – it’s so great and yet it’s not the only thing I do musically, of course. The album [now] gives me a chance to really explore some other musical sounds. So we’ll see how the gigs in the next few years evolve!
Trevor: As we at RockOm have been exploring the bond between music and spirituality and deeper meanings, percussion keeps coming up. Do you think there's some sort of essence about drumming or rhythm that's different?
Zakir: I guess rhythm is part of us from the time we're in our mother's womb. The heart is pumping, there is a pulse, so we respond to that. If you notice, most of the songs that are a hit are songs that you can tap your feet to or you can sing while you're walking. The tempos of the songs that have become hits are the tempos that either you walk in, you breathe in, or you make love in. So the rhythm is a central part of music which leaves an imprint on your mind. It's a very important part simply because you as a human being naturally respond to rhythm more quickly than you do to melody. Composers over the past many years have simplified and watered-down the melodies enough so that you can just as quickly relate to melody as well [sings “Na Na, Hey Hey, Kiss Them Goodbye” and the end of “Hey Jude”]. The composers have brought the melodies to the point where they almost are rhythmic. That's why rap is a big hit.
Shiva is shown with the damaru. He is the destroyer, but also the creator. His son, Lord Ganesha is shown with the pakhawaj, he's the protector. So the two very important gods in India are shown with drums. It is said that when Lord Shiva was called upon by the gods to go down to the earth and kill all the asuras (demons) he came down and he did what they call the “dance of destruction,” tandava. Now, Lord Shiva probably smoked a lot of weed. Because when he got into doing something, he just kept on doing it. (laughs) The point was that he started to destroy the demons and then there were not too many demons left, so he kept on destroying whatever was out there. And the gods got very worried and went, “Ok, pretty soon there's going to be no planet earth. So what to do?” So they sent out Parvati and her other name is Lasya, which means lust, romance, whatever you want to call it. She did the dance of lasya to calm down Shiva and established a balance, an order to all the chaos. Now it is believed that since the first word of the dance of destruction, tandava, is ta – and the first word of lasia, the dance of love and peace and order, is la - that's where the word “tala” comes from, which is rhythm.
So it is really written into the whole source of creation and because of that, I guess human beings are born with that connection, that connection of rhythm. The earth, when it rotates, creates a tone and that tone is Bb. When I hit this [hits table], there's no note, but if it's played a million times fast, it becomes a tone - “mmmm” - and that's Bb.
In the old days they used to bang the temple bells and the old drums to call people to prayers. When the king wanted a new law passed people went around the town, beating the drums and having people come and then explain to them what's going to happen next, who was going to get killed. Messages were sent on the law drums and there are talking drums in Africa to talk to. I guess it's all part of our process of living. And rhythm, pulse, heartbeat, and drums are an essential part of it – not just an important part of it. It is necessary to have that.
Tom: Would you say there could be an analogy in “ta-la” and, from the Bible, “in the Beginning was the Word”?
Zakir: Or in the word Om? We all draw upon something that we've heard and appeals to us. For instance, the growing up process of a musician in India is, OK now you want to become a professional artist. So you're to do the Chilla where you go away into the forest by yourself into that little hut where all the old gurus have gone before you. You live off the land, it doesn't matter how old you are - 15, 18, 20, whatever – and for forty days, you play your music. Where did the number 40 come from? And of course when you're living off the land, you're alone, you're with just your music, you're playing your music 16, 18, 20 hours a day. The vibration of it, the sound of it, the tone of it hypnotizes you. You see things; revelations come. You discover many things – what's inside of you. If there's ugliness inside of you, it will emerge, it will manifest and it may frighten you and tear your mind apart. It's like having an LSD experience of the most negative kind. Or if there's honesty and purity inside of you, that will emerge and enlighten you. So, the forty day period – the 40 days of Moses – the 40 days of flood or rain – that's what I wanted to say, that yes, there is this connection where 40 becomes a very important thing.
Why do we all have the same 12 notes whether we are in deep Africa or on the river in China or anywhere? Why do we have do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do and the flats and the sharps? It's the same in India and here and everywhere. And we say our music has been around for over 2,000 years, but we tuned our sitars and tablas to the machine 440, what the pianos are tuned to now. Why is that? Who knows? 4/4 is the same, 6/8 is the same all over the world. It has not changed or mutated into something else. Some people have gone further with the rhythmic signs, but in the west they've mainly still remained with 4/4 and 6/8. Dave Brubeck came in with “Take 5” and then that became known, while we have about 360 different ones in India which we play. The dance of destruction from Lord Shiva was supposed to be 14 beats; Lasya is supposed to be 8 beats.
Tom: Let's talk about some of your work with other instruments. You've worked with some unusual pairings before, pairing the tabla with the banjo, the bass, cello...
Zakir: It's not so unusual to me and I'll tell you why. Growing up as a young kid, our apprenticeship was in the Bollywood orchestras in India, film orchestras. Bollywood orchestras were all in one large room. At one end of the room was the string section: violins, violas, cellos, basses. Next to them on this side was the piano. Opposite the piano on this side of the room was a big riser which set the sitar player, the sarangi player, flute player, sarod player and there were two mics in there in between them. At this end, on the side of the indian musicians were the indian drums, tablas and all that. Opposite side on the piano line were the (western) drums. So, that's where we were and that's where we played. Under the baton of the conductor or composer, we all played together. That's what I grew up doing, playing with western musicians. Some days there would be a horn section there while we were doing the background score for a film. In those days the composer did not arrive with a complete, composed chart. He would look at the film and would see what the timing was and write the music there. So all of us had to be present because then he knew what he had at his command and what he could write for, what he needed at that time. At that time while he was doing that, we were jamming. The sitar player was sitting with the guitar playing and saying, “What do you got there?” – or the flute player is hanging out with the oboe player (coming up with ideas). So this was a common happening, day in and day out. For me, there wasn't anything unusual about these pairings.
100 years back, or even 60 years back, before that period, it was not so common for Indian musicians to play with musicians of other origins. But my generation, yes. My father was traveling with Ravi Shankar all over the world and would come home with records, LPs, of all varieties. That's where I first heard the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Starship, Yusuf Latif, Duke Ellington, The Doors, Bitches Brew or all these milestone albums. Having arrived here (in America) it was like walking right into the recording room with all those (Bollywood studio) musicians – the only thing was that the faces were different, the language was different and the approaches to the instruments were different.
When you pair with people, that's all one aspect of it – the other one is whether you get along. You can be with the greatest of musicians and sitting on the stage together and nothing happens. You just don't see eye to eye. Nothing's wrong with that, it just happens. So the pairings happen only because there's a connection, you see the same lighted path and you walk that path together so that connection is made and never broken.
Trevor: What do you have ahead of you, do you have new pairings you're working at, or what other adventures lie ahead?
Zakir: I'm still trying to strengthen the old pairings. Say, Mickey Hart for instance; I've known him since 1972 – that's when we did our first record called Rolling Thunder and I'm still working with him. The thing is after 10 or 12 years of working with someone, the valleys, the little corners and nooks and all, start to reveal themselves. I was a punk Indian musician wanting to impress the daylights out of everybody; I was gonna get on that drum and play as strong and as fast as possible. And I did that, but by the time I reached John McLaughlin and those guys, I understood that I needed to get to know them as people; I needed to go live where they lived, eat what they ate, go for walks with them, you know? Just be there, day in and day out. I went to the Shaman villages in South America with Airto (Moreira) to hang out there to just learn and to learn what Airto was all about, what Babatunde (Olantunji) was all about. That whole tradition – you can't just learn by listening to a record and saying hello to a person. That's just the surface; you've got to get to know them, then once you get to know them, that's when you can start finding the connection. Unless your hearts meet, your minds connect, and your eyes see the same lighted path, it's not possible to be paired together and make music together. I've been paired with a hundred different musicians over the years but there have been 2 or 3 that I am still working with because that walk has been taken. Sadly, some of those I have not been able to revist and maybe find that road and so the pairings didn't continue. But hopefully there are some more – like working with Bela Fleck and Edgar Meyer. This is something that just began two years ago and has the makings of a very special brotherhood, so let's see what happens.
Native American drums are arguably the most used American Indian instruments among Native Americans and non American Indian people alike. Drums for many generations have always been at the center of Indian lifestyle, forming what has become the platform of religion and spirituality as well as special days where a pow wow drum is center stage.
Indian people in North America history have all used drums in various ways to interact with a higher power known to most as the Great Spirit. To Native people, Indian drums are much more than just decorations or nice musical instruments. American Indian drums are believed to speak to the drummer. Native drums being made in a circle represent the earth and life. The most recognizable being hoop drums and shaman drums which are Indian hand drums used in many personal healing and religious ceremonies as well as public ceremonies such as a Native American powwow.
The skin of the animal that is placed over the ring brings with it unique characteristics of the spirit of the animal and brings a sense of life to the drum when played. Many people think of pounding a drum to make a sound, but to Indian drummers and those involved in modern drumming groups and drum circles, the desire is to draw out the sound. The beating drum is compared to the beating of a human heart and is said to represent the heart beat of the earth which is a belief that is classic Native American. Drums in this way become the platform to connect one's spirit with that of the earth and the Great Spirit through out the history of American Indians.
Native American Indian drums have a beautiful culture and because they are so important they are used in not only music but art and dance as well. Adding decoration to a drum becomes a very personal job to the owner. The Indian drummer becomes an artist and communicates impressions of his inner feelings and beliefs in his Indian art. Some American Indian tribes use images of animals to personalize their drums and others use geometric patterns and everything in between. In some tribal Indian cultures the drummer will place something of personal value inside the drum to permanently join himself with his hand drum.
The different Native American icons that the artwork on the drums depict is often painted with natural earth colors taken from nature. Some are dull and others are bright coming from flowers, roots, berries, bark or herbs that are boiled to release their unique earth tones. Other Native American drums are adorned with iron oxide which is a naturally occurring red rock that can be easily crushed. When mixed with water, it produces a rich orange red dye that is much like paint and is indicative if the surrounding hillsides and rock formations like those of the beautiful Arizona red rock canyons. The region of Sedona is thought to be a special place with spiritual power like the energy created by American Indian drums.
The goal of Native American Education except for those Indian boarding schools that have tried to stamp out Native culture has always involved the sharing of beliefs through music, songs, stories and legends. It is in harmony with these forms of learning that the communication and cultural importance has been found in the use of drums. If you are interested in the spiritual aspects of life as pertain to Indian beliefs, you would enjoy using and playing Native American drums.
Gaura's Website
In music, it is said that the master first learns the fundamentals, then learns to play with music, and finally surrenders to let music play through him. This adage was very much evident during Ustad Zakir Hussain and Pandit Shivkumar Sharma’s performance at the Lucas Theater on Wednesday, March 31 in Savannah, Georgia as part of the world renowned Savannah Music Festival. For more than two hours these two revered masters of their instruments- Hussain, the tabla and Sharma, the Santoor- held the audience mesmerized and in one spirit as they played their way through both Indian classical and folk songs.
Maestro violinist Daniel Hope and the Savannah Music Festival’s associate artistic director joined Hussain and Sharma for two, short improvisational pieces. Never before have I heard the violin paired with santoor and tabla. The result was extraordinary. It isn’t often one hears something so astonishingly original. The experience surely was as refreshing to the musicians as it was to the audience by the smiles on their faces as they concluded the evening’s performance and bowed respectfully to one another.
Positive or not, change has come to the powwow arena and probably will continue to do so. But, some standards must be kept in order not to lose the culture entirely.
In the world of American yoga/kirtan music, a small handful of prominent names rise to the top, one of which is Grammy-nominated musician Jai Uttal. Thunder Love, Jai's latest release (out March 24th on Nutone Records), marks a turning point in his career on both a professional as well as personal level. The album features Jai not only as a vocalist and interpreter of Sanskrit mantras, but also as an English-speaking songwriter and fuses sounds, elements and genres that are new to his ever-widening musical palette.
Shiva is shown with the damaru. He is the destroyer, but also the creator. His son, Lord Ganesha is shown with the pakhawaj, he's the protector. So the two very important gods in India are shown with drums. It is said that when Lord Shiva was called upon by the gods to go down to the earth and kill all the asuras (demons) he came down and he did what they call the “dance of destruction,” tandava. Now, Lord Shiva probably smoked a lot of weed. Because when he got into doing something, he just kept on doing it. (laughs) The point was that he started to destroy the demons and then there were not too many demons left, so he kept on destroying whatever was out there. And the gods got very worried and went, “Ok, pretty soon there's going to be no planet earth. So what to do?” So they sent out Parvati and her other name is Lasya, which means lust, romance, whatever you want to call it. She did the dance of lasya to calm down Shiva and established a balance, an order to all the chaos. Now it is believed that since the first word of the dance of destruction, tandava, is ta – and the first word of lasia, the dance of love and peace and order, is la - that's where the word “tala” comes from, which is rhythm.
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