Four Sides of Khoomei, No more Mealody, Screwed Bunny

Monday 9th April
Last night’s “Four Sides of Khoomei” concert was an unqualified success. It was held in a small conference the Cultural Palace. I guess that this stunning building was put up some time in the 80s; it’s white with funky gold trim and looks to me like the Battle Destroyer of some alien overlord that has landed here to subjugate the inhabitants of this puny planet. I think it’s my favourite building in UB.

The four performers sat in a semi-circle in an open half-ger erected on the stage; with the low lighting in the smallish room, this gave the performance a very authentic atmosphere. Four notes were sounded on a jew’s harp, and then the first rumbling low notes of Khoomei began. The interplay of voices and instruments proved enchanting. Sometimes one performer sang a song while two others sang low note khoomei and the fourth sang the high, whistling tones. Parts would change from song to song or through the course of the song. There were bird calls, camel coughs, the shouts of herders and whinnies of horses. Songs were accompanied on the two-stringed Mongolian banjo, or the Morin Khuur (‘Horse-head fiddle’), or two banjos and the fiddle, or two fiddles alone, or were unaccompanied. The rapt silence, followed by smiling faces turned to each other in the brief pauses between songs showed how well the performance was received by the audience.

Due to unfortunate circumstances, Khoomei master Taravjiin Ganbold did not take part in the concert. His replacement, Nerguin Ganzorig, proved, however, proved to be an inspired choice. The second song in the set was composed by Ganzorig, performed solo, and was pretty funky sounding, played on a swan-headed banjo strummed rigorously with a plectrum (rather than the simple two finger alternate plucking which seems to be the usual use of the instrument). Likewise, the finale of the show was also a song of Ganzorig, with a very catchy chorus (“Morinkhuur, khoomei, blahdiblah, Mongol-something-something dah...”) and again with a driving rhythm.

After the concert I bought the CD “Melodious Tree” by Altai-Khangai - the which both Ganbold and Ganzorig (along with one Lhagva Bjambakhichig) have performed with since 1995. It provided the perfect accompaniment to a very pleasant lunch today sat on my balcony, in my shirt-sleeves (Spring is definitely here!), whilst staring across the rooves of the (happily smog-free) city towards the Bogd Khan Mountains, with the white portrait of Chinggis on the hillside staring back. Here’s a link to their website, from which you can navigate to a sound sample on an English page, and buy some of their CDs through a French website. I have no doubt that they’ll be performing in Europe in the near future, and it’s my hope that I can nudge them in the direction of Liverpool for 2008.


Sad news for those of us here who’ve been spoiled rotten by the incredible music from the U-Bop jazz trio at Mealody, where they’ve been playing every Friday for the last 8 Months. Unfortunately it seems that there have been disagreements with the management of the restaurant, or something, and Friday nights are no more. Just when the hillbilly interlude was getting into its stride - in fact, come to think of it, maybe there’s a connection there... Well, it was certainly fun while it lasted. I’m hoping to get something musical going at the new Colombo Cafe (north of Sukhbaatar Square, just off the Baga Toiru round the corner from Los Bandidos) - haven’t settled on a regular date there, but I recommend anyone in UB to pop in there and try out their real Columbian coffee (a considerable rarity here as pretty much the only thing drunk in UB is Mac Coffee, which makes the likes of Nescafe taste as good as their adverts claim) and the excellent food and very reasonably priced beer.

A happy accident at the home of my good friends Niall and Enke (and now their newborn son Sainaa) has led to the discovery that vodka, carrot juice and and slices of orange served with plenty of ice makes an extremely drinkable combination. N Peszka of Boise, Idaho has suggested that this be named the Screwed Bunny, and so it is. I'm using carrot juice in a carton, made from concentrate: am dubious as to whether freshly blended would taste better, but hope to be able to try it once I find a kitchen suitably equipped. If you are skeptical about the result of this mix I urge you to try it: you may be surprised. Stir well.

Khoomei Fever

Tuesday 3rd April
The Spring vacation is here - a week rather than the two weeks I'd expected, for reasons which it would make me seem bitter to go into here. I might have had nothing to do, and been forced to take a holiday out in the countryside, riding horses, breathing the fresh air, etc - but happily the school volunteered me to mark exam papers in yet another of the city's many English 'Olympics'. All that fresh air would have doubtless proven too much for me; today it was a sweltering 11c outside, so, although I'm still waiting to see the first green shoots, Spring is undoubtedly here.

In all honesty, I haven't lost out by staying in UB: happily the past few weeks have been very productive musically. Vadik, the Ukranian mouth harp and percussionist, is sadly on his way back to Odessa in a week or so, but we've taken every opportunity we can to play, and it's been very enjoyable. Vadik's flatmate is a French Ethnomusicologist, Johanni Curtet, who's been studying Mongolian music here (in particular khoomei) for two or maybe three years now. We had a jam at their flat a couple of weeks ago, along with Andrew Colwell - the Bassist, and indeed Khoomei singer with the U-Bop band. Johanni recorded the jam and when I can figure out how I can cut down the length of the main 29 minute jam in the key of G (not that it isn't all wonderful stuff, but the filesize seems to be a bit unweildy for the internet) then I'll post it here. The great thing about jamming with khoomei singers is that you can keep it minimalist and stay on one chord, and it still sounds fantastic.

Johanni has been extremely busy lately as the fruit of his Doctoral studies takes place this weekend: he has arranged for the leading exponents of the four main schools of khoomei to perform at the Art Gallery in Ulaanbaatar's Culture Palace on Saturday and Sunday, after which he will give a lecture. I'm informed that this is the first time that the four have performed together, and that indeed there has been considerable professional rivalry between them in the past. For the past week they've been rehearsing five or six hours a day at Johanni's apartment. I've been very privileged to have been round at the flat on a couple of occasions and listen - the sound is truly awe-inspiring. On Saturday night Vadik and I called round to collect Johanni to head over to a party. Johanni's khoomei teacher, Tserendavaa, is staying at the flat along with his son. Johanni is recording their next album for them, and they were just finishing the last few recordings after a long night. I'm told, and a little internet research confirms, that Tserendavaa is one of the foremost teachers of throat-singing. He has performed all over the world - but when he isn't performing, he lives as a herder and nomad in the west of Mongolia (Here's a link to a blog by Robert Beahrs about the time he spent studying khoomei with Tserendavaa in 2005). Tserendavaa has quite a presence, especially in a small flat - a good natured, barrel-chested man, who would stand as a good case-in-point in favour of my suggestion that John Wayne makes a pretty convincing Mongolian in The Conqueror. Before we left to let the man get some hard earned rest I played the Worried Man Blues for him, to which he did me the extreme honour of adding a little throat-singing.

If anyone is reading this in UB, you cannot afford to miss one of Johanni's historic concerts this weekend. Tickets are 5000T and available from either the Alliance Francaise (opposite the entrance to the Daschoylin Temple) or from the Art Gallery in the Culture Palace (Sukhbataar Square). The performances will be on the 7th and 8th of April at the Culture Palace Art Gallery, 6pm. Johanni's lecture, "Xoomei, nomadisme et urbanisation" (in French and translated to Mongolian) is free and will be held on 8th April at 2pm (I assume in the Alliance Francaise). The four performers are Nanjidiin Sengedorj, Dashdorjiin Tserendavaa, Baatarin Odsuren and Taravjaviin Ganbold.

Tsagaan Sar, Darkhan, Mealody

Monday 26th February 2007
I apologise for not reporting sooner on Tsagaan Sar - the Mongolian New Year. One problem has been that it is impossible to write about Tsagaan Sar without writing about buuz and, now that the festival is over, I don't find my mind (or my stomach, more to the point) returning to the subject of buuz with much enthusiasm.

Tsagaan Sar - either 'White Moon' or 'White Month' - is the most important festival on the Mongolian calendar. The practise and traditions go back a long way, and strongly reflect the nomadic culture. During Tsagaan Sar people visit the homes of their relatives and friends, greet each other with a special embrace that shows deference to the older party, and eat buuz. Each home, for the 3 main days of the festival has its dining table loaded with food: a boov: stacked layers of a special kind of bread (one layer for each decade of the senior member of the household) on which are piled sweets; and a lot of cold mutton - traditionally a whole sheep is cooked for Tsagaan Sar. In the houses of the older people I visited there was always the back and ribs of a sheep, in the houses of younger people there was simply a huge bowl with various cuts of mutton in.

White Moon is very much a family occasion, but, hospitality being a deeply ingrained tradition, foreigners are invariably invited to spend Tsagaan Sar with a surrogate family for the weekend. I travelled up to Darkhan with Ganaa, one of my fellow to teachers, to visit with his family there. We caught a taxi there on Sunday evening, along with Ganaa's girlfriend and his brother, who was returning home from work in Korea (there are a lot of Mongolians working in Korea - I heard an estimate of 20,000 workers, from Mongolia's population of 2 million). Darkhan is about a 4 hour drive in a taxi, on what must be a pretty good road by Mongolian standards: single-lane and pot-holed, of course, and also fairly busy with traffic that . I couldn't see much of the countryside in the darkness, but when we made a brief relief stop I stepped off the road into a deep drift of snow. The stars were fantastically bright and clear above - such a profusion of stars that the constellations were almost lost amongst them.

Although we arrived very late, we were still able to visit three homes At each one making the traditional Tsagaan Sar greeting, drinking milk tea, followed by vodka; meanwhile, a big pan of buuz would be boiled. Buuz are boiled dumplings - balls of beef wrapped in dough. They don't taste at all bad, but it is kind of disheartening to be faced by a plate piled with 20 or 30 of the things, accompanied by nothing but cold mutton and maybe potato salad. Small gifts would be given by the host to the guests. More vodka was then drunk, accompanied by a round songs, one from each guest. More milk tea and then vodka - and then suddenly, everybody was putting on their coats to leave, we all piled into a car and slowly drove to the next home, where the whole process began again. From apartment to apartment, to a ger in the old town, back to another apartment in the new - it all becomes a bit of a blur.

There are many small ceremonial civilities that make up the festival, which, broadly speaking, is about reaffirming the bonds of family and friendship. Men exchange snuff bottles with a special open handed gesture. The bottle is always left slightly open, and returned to the giver that way. One of my fourth graders, dressed in the traditional deel, passed me a bottle for a snort at a class on the Friday before Tsagaan Sar.

Monday we saw the sights of Darkhan before beginning the circuit of calling on relatives again. With a population of 100,000 Darkhan is Mongolia's second city. The sights include Mongolia's Tallest Building (a 14 or so storey tower block which I am pretty sure is smaller than the Ulaanbaatar Bank building and numerous new apartment blocks in the capital) and the view of the old and new town from the top of the low hill between the two. Old Darkhan is wooden houses and ger; new Darkhan is a lot of crumbling tower blocks built in the 1980s. The graffiti painted on the wall outside Ganaa's brother's home included Take That and East 17.

It isn't such a pretty city, but the people are certainly friendly, to judge by Ganaa's relatives, and I was made to feel very welcome. By Monday evening, however, I was quite ready to head back home. Vodka-fueled 'negotiations' from my hosts regarding taxi fares finally secured us seats in a Micro Bus headed back to Ulaanbaatar at about 10pm. For the next four and a half hours I did my best to doze - my skull being cracked at every pot-hole along the way. I didn't exactly feel great at school the following morning, but pretty much everyone had a buuz-glazed look to their eyes.



It took me the remainder of the week to recover. By Friday, I was ready to head out in search of Mealody - a small jazz club/restaurant somewhere in the University district. I'd tried to find it the previous week, as Chuluun, the Inner Mongolian musician who played some Monrin Khuur and sang Khoomei at my apartment, had urged me to go and see his friend's band. Unfortunately, I'd gone to a place called Blue Melody, where a girl punk band were playing, not the jazz-fusion I'd been lead to expect. I'd then spent more than half an hour walking up and down (passing Mealody three times as it happens) looking for the place, before finally retreating home with the excuse, at least, that I would have died of exposure had I spent any further time searching. This time I phoned in advance to clarify the location.

Mealody is a very pleasant, cosy little place, and I'm very glad to have found it this time round. Furthermore, the band were phenomenal. The jazz was less experimental than I guess I had feared - it was just good, exciting, entertaining music. 'U-Bop' (I must say that Ulaanbaatar's name really lends itself to musical puns) are an English guy on piano (Steve Tromans), a Mongolian drummer (N. Ganbat) and an American Double Bass player (Andrew Colwell). They play original music, arrangements of popular Mongolian songs and jazz standards. Throughout their playing is characterised by energy, enthusiasm, and sheer talent - they are a bloody good band. For a centrepiece they played a wonderful, moody tune, in which Andrew sings Khoomei - tri-tone ‘throat singing’ - which you should listen to on the JazzMongolia MySpace site to get some idea of (the site’s shared with other bands so I’m not sure who’s doing the singing on it). It was a wonderful evening.

Furthermore, the band very generously allowed me to take things down a notch or two in terms of musical sophistication and play ‘Cumberland Gap’, ‘Down the Road’ and a few others in the break. I’d missed an earlier set by a Japanese player of the Cavalkino (I’m not sure of the spelling, but as all those who attended the Grapes bluegrass jam will remember, it’s the Brazilian cousin of the ukulele), but we chatted and hope to get a chance to jam together in a few weeks’ time.

Khoomei Sweet Khoomei

Thursday 15th February
My attempts to track down some traditional music have been a bit half hearted in the two and a half months I've been here in Mongolia. I've heard a few traditional singers at Christmas parties, but other than my visit to an instrument maker's shop last week the rest of my time I have been somewhat culturally delinquent. At last I have rectified the situation, thanks to my friend Bulgaa who texted me this afternoon to ask if I was free this evening. Would it be okay for him to call around to my apartment with his friend Chuluun?

Chuluun is originally from Inner Mongolia and plays the Morin Khuur and is a Khoomei singer. He arrived at my home with the distinctive, roughly bar-bell shaped Morin Khuur softcase on his shoulder. I've heard the Morin Khuur played and I've heard throat-singing before - Bela Fleck and the KLF have both recorded with the unearthly tri-tone singing. Words fail me to describe the experience of hearing the music sung in my living room. I'm hoping to hear Chuluun play tomorrow so I will try and find something to write worthy of his art.

In the meantime, here's Chuluun with his instrument, and also in mid-Khoomei playing the banjo. I had hoped to possibly post the first picture on the web of Khoomei being sung to the banjo, but then I Googled and confirmed that there's nothing new in cyberspace - here's the Myspace page of Arjopa, a Khoomei singer in Germany who plays an old English zither banjo.