Running Around with the Throat Singers of Tuva
From the States to the Center of Asia
I first discovered the magical, healing music of Tuva in 1999 while battling my last withdrawal from narcotics. There was something about this music that I couldn’t put my finger on, but it resonated with me on a deep level. I firmly believe this music saved my life.
For those unaware, throat singing (known as khoomei in Tuva) is a fascinating vocal technique where the singer can hit two or more notes simultaneously. Although mostly known as coming from Mongolia, the Tuvan style of throat singing is different. In my opinion, it’s more soulful and freestyle than the way their southern neighbors sing. To the novice listener, both styles may sound the same, but once you listen more closely, you’ll hear the differences.
I first met the Alash Ensemble in Trumansburg, NY at the Grassroots Festival in 2009. I had purchased a Tuvan instrument via an online liaison, and the band would deliver it to me at this festival. I hit it off with Sean Quirk, the band’s manager, and it soon became my obsession to see the band perform every time they toured the States.
Alash typically toured the States twice a year, and I found myself hitting all of their concerts within a driveable distance. Seeing them perform in NYC was quite easy for me, as the city was only a 45-minute drive for me at that time. Catching them in Philadelphia became more and more commonplace, and driving over two hours never felt like a chore. I began to expand my driving radius, and overnight trips to see them play in upstate New York in cities like Ithaca. Even Washington DC wasn’t too far, and I’d taken the 5-hour drive to see them on more than one occasion.
In 2013, I opened my home to the band, and it quickly became the Alash Ensemble's east coast headquarters. Sean had dubbed the place Casa de Shu, referring to my personalized license plates that read SHU DE, the Tuvan version of “Giddy Up.”
The band would stay at my place anywhere between a few nights to a week or two, depending on their tour schedule. I always looked forward to the times they’d be making my home, their home. It was a much-needed pleasant distraction from my overworked and underpaid life.
Casa de Shu was a spacious retreat for the band and my then-girlfriend Sandy treated them like family. They had full access to the entire place and quickly became comfortable preparing meals for all of us in the kitchen. They’re quite good cooks, especially if you are a fan of meat! The furnished sub-basement became the “Alash room,” and this is where the band members slept, hung out, and watched Russian movies on the widescreen TV. Sean slept in the upstairs guest bedroom.
The Alash room had all of my Tuvan treasures. My doshpuluur and byanchii hung on the wall as did Alash concert posters and framed photos of me with the guys and other Tuvan bands that toured the States. It became a second home to the band. They returned the favor, and during each of my three trips to Tuva, I stayed with each of the band members for a few nights. During my first trip, Sean was gracious enough to open up his home to me for my entire stay.
Every time they visited, you might think that it was private throat singing lessons and party time. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Casa de Shu was a refuge from touring and performing, and I generally let them do what they wanted, which was mostly watching Russian films down in the Tuva room, face-timing with their wives and children, and catching up on much-needed sleep, rest, and relaxation.
From 2013 until 2019, I had the pleasure of spending a lot of time with these three fantastic musicians and their manager. I considered them my heroes, and to have them spend time in my home was like a dream come true.
Hosting the band was awesome. The icing on the cake was hopping in the tour van, dubbed “the Alash mobile,” and hitting the road with them for a couple of concerts. I have no idea how many miles I’ve clocked with the guys, but it was all over the northeastern portions of the States. From Washington DC, West Virginia, all over New York State, and as far north as Maine, I had the pleasure of their company as traversed from here to there, spreading the gospel of Tuva.
Most of the rides were uneventful, and anyone who’s toured knows the boredom it can bring. My favorite times in the Alash mobile were when Bady would break out his bayan and play it while we all stared endlessly out the windows watching the mile markers speed by.
Each day on the road was identical. Drive for hours, arrive at the venue for load-in, do a sound check, then wait for showtime. It was boring for the guys, but I can honestly say that it always felt like an amazing adventure to me.
I’d help unload the band’s gear and go into roadie mode. The guys always made me feel as if I were a part of the team. Although I have no idea how sound checks work, Sean always included me and asked my advice. “How do they sound, dude,” he’d say while he fiddled with the sliders and dials. Always excited to hear the guys play, even at sound check, I’d smile and say they sound great.
After each concert, I’d work the merch table. Within minutes, I’d be swamped with happy concert-goers snatching up whatever the band had for sale. On a few tours, they sold handmade Tuvan caps, like the ones in the photo above. These were always a best seller.
After my first trip to Tuva in 2016, selling merch became even easier. A common question was if I had visited Tuva, so once I had been there, I would be pounded with questions about what it’s like.
“It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been to,” I’d respond, “but also the craziest!”
My role with the band had never really been clearly defined. I had business cards that read “Merch Guy, Roadie, and Head Cheerleader,” but that was just for fun. Sure, I did help out with loading and unloading the band’s gear and selling merch after concerts, but I was mostly the guy who helped to spread the word about concerts and keeping fans of the band excited and connected.
On more than one occasion, a venue’s promoter would ask Sean who I was. Sean’s response usually went something like this:
“Michael helps out the band in numerous ways. He’s an extra set of hands, he’s been to Tuva so he can answer a lot of questions from fans, and he’s an all-around good guy. He doesn’t take up much room in the van and doesn’t eat much either, so he’s an easy companion when we’re on the road. Plus, he does all the stuff I don’t want to do.”
Once the pandemic hit, touring ended. Alash was in the States in early 2020, but as concert after concert was canceled due to Covid restrictions, they packed up and headed home. The last time I saw the band was in the photo above, a selfie we took at a private concert in Connecticut.
In September 2020 during the height of the pandemic, I left the States and quietly snuck into Spain. I’m still here and loving it, but I do miss my times on the road with the Alash Ensemble. I miss my little Tuvan brothers. A finer group of men you won’t find.
If you enjoyed this article, you’ll love My Adventures in Tuva. I spent my entire first year in Barcelona writing this beast of a book with its massive 220,000 words. It covers my first discovery of the healing music of Tuva in 1999 and ends with my third trip to Tuva in 2018. For a look into my pre-Tuvan life, check out New York City Junky Days.
