Tuvan Throat Singing
An Excerpt from My Adventures in Tuva
After some light conversation amongst the men, Igor began to make a speech. The yurt fell silent and all eyes were on him. I have no idea what he was saying, but whatever it was, he said it with great pride. All the men inside the yurt would occasionally nod their heads in agreement as he continued to speak. Eventually, he reached for his igil and everyone smiled and clapped. Igor played and sang the most beautiful song I have ever heard. It wasn’t a song that I knew at all, it was one that I had never heard before. He sang and played from his heart, from his soul, and I was truly moved. For a rare moment, my New York mind slowed to a snail’s pace and I was completely in the moment. That igil made the most beautiful music and I imagined that this very setting of nomads gathered together listening to a musician had been played out for generations. I wish I’d known what he was singing about, but in all reality, it didn’t matter. I could feel the music in my heart, and my heart told me that the words didn’t matter and to just sit back, relax, and enjoy the moment.
After he performed a second song, he reached over and grabbed the doshpuluur. He stood up and handed it to his son. Aygor squatted down and started to strum the instrument. The tune was familiar to my ears. He sang along with the doshpuluur. Starting with khoomei…
