Donald Kachamba

I have said before that my time at UCLA was like a giant musical all-u-can-eat buffet. And just when I thought I couldn’t possibly pack one more ensemble into my schedule, they sprung the “year of African music” on me, and brought Donald Kachamba to teach for a quarter. Donald was from Malawi, an African country that lots of people haven’t even heard of before. He was famous for the style of music he and his brothers played, “kwela” music, which involved guitars, tin whistles, a one-string bass, shakers, and singing. But the fun part about this style of music, right away, is that nothing was taken at face value. The guitar was modified to have only five strings instead of six (who needs that pesky A string anyway?), the tin whistles were played with the mouthpiece shoved deep inside the player’s cheek (and the player was required to tilt his head to one side), the bass was a wooden crate, about knee-height, and was played like the washtub bass you find in American jug bands. Donald told us that before they could afford the luxury of wooden crates for their one-string basses, the folks in his village used to just dig holes (resonating chambers) around the place and throw a wooden top over them and play over the hole. Apparently the chief put a stop to this when it got to be that there were large holes causing a hazard all over the village.

I find it difficult to describe Donald, and I guess that’s because as soon as we all started really getting to know him, it was time for him to fly back to Malawi. In that one quarter, we rehearsed as much as we could, put on a great concert, and recorded a cd. And there were times in our rehearsals when it seemed we weren’t even going to be able to perform one song, let alone a whole program. The melodies were simple, the rhythms were simple, the instrumentation I’ve already described above… simply enough… But get a bunch of students in breakneck fast-paced cram-it-all-in Los Angeles to focus their attention on music stripped down to its simplest beauty? That’s quite a task. Donald did it, though. He worked with us with such gentle patience… And when we finally started to get into the music, I think that’s when we could start to see how the music, the love, the kindness, the simplicity, the enlightenment, all just seemed to seep out of Donald’s pores.

Knowing Donald helped me understand music in a new way, and even showed me a completely different way of approaching life. Again, hard to describe, and hard to put into words… But I’ll share the music instead, and hope that some of it comes across.

This is from the cd we recorded with Donald, which was recently released by the UCLA Ethnomusicology Department. I’m either playing shaker or babatoni (one-string tea-crate bass) on this track. It reminds me of how we never really knew when to come in with the singing, or how many times to sing the line. Donald had some zen way of knowing, and it was really just up to us to get there with him.

“If you make a mistake, be careful. Jesus is coming.”

“Olakwa Samalani Yesu Akumbwela.”

Red

This is a piece I wrote and recorded on Christmas Eve. I like it because it reminds me of an artist in Pasadena, Terry Payne, whose work is shown above. Mostly, it reminds me of the music on his website, but then I can easily remember meeting him and his big fluffy dog on the streets of Pasadena while I played my dulcimer there. He was quite a lot older than me, and I’m pretty sure we had little, if anything, in common… But it’s probably the mystery that I liked about him the most. I remember a certain gentle intensity about him. Before I had a chance to get to know him at all, I left for Ireland. While I was in Ireland, Terry sent me a very cool postcard– an illustration of his in the style Polish circus poster that originally had the word “Cyrk” on it, that Terry had cleverly changed to “Cork”. All these years I’ve kept him in mind as the artist I’d like to have design my cd cover. You out there, Terry? You with me on this? Remember your dulcimer girl?

Dancing at Fono, Budapest

This is a short clip of the dancing at the folk club Viktoria took us to. Gotta love the way the dancers’ feet add to the ryhthm of the music.

Drip.

Consider this another work in progress. Got out of the bath one day, but didn’t drain the water out right away because Eleanor, the cat, likes to stand on the edge of the tub and lick the water. From the other room, I could hear this dripping sound, like I must have turned the water almost completely off, but not quite. By the time I returned to the bathroom with my microphone, Eleanor had long since lost her interest in the water… but she noticed my interest, and joined me while I recorded the drip. I’d like to compose a piece of music around this. Wouldn’t you?

Traditional Hungarian Music, hot off the press

I’m in an internet cafe in Budapest, and I don’t have much time, so I’ll just quickly post this mp3, and then take some time later to write about it. This was a performance Viktoria and Istvan took us to last night in this awesome folk club. After the concert, there was dancing until who knows what hour. We left around midnight, sweaty, and our nostrils full of dust that got kicked up off the floor. Wow.

I really should’ve written down the name of this band– they were great. Anyway, can’t wait to share, so here’s a clip from the performance. I love this woman’s voice, and the agressive whistle playing! Later, the whole room was making music with this band, as the dancers had steps that added to the percussion, and some call and response action… More to come!

A short pause for Budapest

I don’t know what my schedule or internet access will be like over the next week while we’re in Budapest, but I’m sure I’ll be collecting some great music there, and I promise to post as soon as I can!  I’ll also be posting pictures on my flickr page: www.flickr.com/photos/butchandchristie

Next stop, Budapest!  And then exotic Baltimore!

See you out there.

More confusion

…But it sure is starting to sound good.

Here’s me and Butch giving it a whirl, thinking we might perform it in Budapest next week. When he gets it goin’ on the guitar, I forget all about Death Cab for Cutie, and realize it’s “Dear Prudence.” Hey, I could steal from worse.

Confused Waltz, hammered dulcimer and guitar:

Confused Waltz

A few weeks ago, I was feeling a little confused. And I sat down with all of my feelings at the piano and wrote this waltz. I find that it’s good to play when you’re thinking too hard, because the playing can take over… Sometimes it’s just funny what comes out, though. So the first audio clip here is me playing the “Confused Waltz” on the piano just moments after coming up with the initial idea. The second clip is me playing the melody and accompaniment on the dulcimer, having recorded each part separately, which is not a particularly fun or easy thing to do. So I think the dulcimer version is just as rough as the piano version, but rough for different reasons. In terms of the accompaniment, I’ve decided (since that first piano recording) to hang onto the G rather than move to an A and then C in the bass. I think that sounds a lot better, although it made it apparent to me that I had stolen the chords–even for the second part– from a Death Cab for Cutie song, appropriately titled, “Different Names for the Same Thing”.

Confused Waltz, original piano version, recorded moments after I composed it:

Confused Waltz, dulcimer version, recorded this morning after a long weekend in Bardstown:

Different Names for the Same Thing, by Death Cab for Cutie (just a piece of it):

Burkina Faso

Another unexpected musical encounter in Ireland, which I can only faintly remember… A guy named Trevor came into The Living Tradition, the music shop where I was working (working at making conversation with just about everyone, that is). He told me he played the ngoni, an instrument related to the west African kora. So somehow we made the connection and he ended up over at my place to practice for another spontaneous gig, quite like the vina player from a few posts ago. [I'm telling you, it's like magic dust in the air over there or something.] Today while searching for good music to teach in Bardstown this coming weekend, I ran across just one track of Trevor teaching me a song, accompanied by ngoni, and bells on his ankles. So I took the opportunity to re-teach myself the song, transcribed it western style, and figured it all out on the hammered dulcimer. The tune doesn’t do much, and neither do the lyrics–although I’m sure there are more we just didn’t get to… But I think it’s rather beautiful in its simplicity. This here is a recording of me trying it on the dulcimer just now. I’m sure I’ll learn more with this tune, how to play with the rhythms, melodic variations, etc. Could even write more words, I suppose. We’ll call it a work in progress for now. And hopefully it’ll make an interesting contribution when I teach it at the dulcimer festival this weekend. I bet most of the teachers teach music they actually know! Where’s the adventure in that?

Faso Denou…”Thank you God that I was born in Burkina Faso”:

(My new verse will have to be more like “Thank you God for this wonderful green leather wallet that Zena bought for me in Burkina Faso during her term with the Peace Corps.”)

Sometimes it’s exactly what you expect…only better.

My days in Cork were so rich in music from the moment I arrived there. I hardly went anywhere without bringing my minidisc recorder along. This recording was made on November 14, 2001, which would’ve been just about 2 months after I first got to Cork for my year abroad. It was Tom Spackman and myself sitting off to the side of the session at the Gables on Barrack Street, listening to Christy Leahy on box, Johnny Neville on guitar, and Geraldine O’Callahan on fiddle. This continues to be one of the best sessions in Cork, in my opinion, although it’s never exactly the same twice. This particular night was probably the first night I started to fall in love with Johnny Neville’s guitar playing… I only wish I’d captured him singing. I pity any tourists who travel to Ireland in search of traditional music and end up sitting in a pub other than the Gables on a Wednesday or Sunday night. Unless it’s the Corner House, but that’s another story for another post.

Set of reels, recorded at the Gables, November 14, 2001.