Langspil

The indigenous folk musics of the world may have become blended
as never before, but their strength is notable for how easily their essences
survive such interplay. The Yoruban tribal culture of Africa will continue
to stretch skins tightly across circles of wood as a resting place for its
talking drum rhythms. In Cuba, the hissing of dried seeds - a Garcia
Lorca phrase, if I accurately recall -will always preserve the five-beat
clave rhythm which permeates not only that nation´s music but how its
people move. In Iceland, it´s the wind you hear, in the breath,in the
ancient fifth-song harmonies, in the quaver of bow to strings as the
memory of the langspil is raised to life on a more contemporary violin
in the song of a string quartet.

http://www.library.wisc.edu/etext/Jonas/Skaldid/Skaldid-VIG-Ah.117.html

Today I had the opportunity to drive around Reykjavik on my own -
yikes! at first - and enjoyed getting lost while listening to the Icelandic
tonlíst on the radio. I didn´t understand more than a few words here
and there, but the melodies were lovely. Other than Björk and a few
other originals, much of the pop music sounds to my ears much like
pop music anywhere - fluffy, glossy, harmless. At times, I wince to
think that Abba has had more influence than, say, The Beatles. But
it´s only radio, and we all know what radio sounds like stateside, too.

Disa and her family have shared cds with me of a number of the more
compelling and deeper-rooted artists in the native music scene. There
are a few - Megas being one -whose lyrics are so dialectically creative
that capturing their invention in English translation is difficult. As
Icelandic´s language has maintained its ancient roots while combining
modern inflections, I can understand how some of the subtleties could
be lost in translation. In the instrumental music there is no such limiation.
The melodic powers of Icelandic music are rare, to these ears, and they
summon the landscapes of this country - above ground and buried - with
uncommon grace. Eerie, beautiful string harmonies. In thechoral music I
bought yesterday, despite knowing only a little of the themes in the lyrics,
I am transported into that two-fold consciousness I mentioned before,
where the here and now joins hands with always. I don´t mean to wax
poetic, but the music and the place are essentially joined.

When Disa sings an old folk tale, her tongue making those sudden leaps
and clicks inside her mouth, it´s a pretty thing to hear. It´s funny, when
she´s teaching me to say things, how much of the Icelandic language has
to do with learning new tricks of the tongue. She will say "Raise the back
of your tongue," for one word, or "move the tongue to the side and send
the sound along the side of it," for another. I tell you, if I never master
functional Icelandic, I will at least have a tongue that has learned a few
new dances! That can´t be all bad...

Bless, bless

DL