Igor Koshkendey
Music from Tuva

"Tuva is a small republic of the Russian Federation located in the geographical center of Asia, between southern Siberia and northern Mongolia. Among the characteristic traditions of this country, the overtone singing, known as Khoomei, plays a primary role. Khoomei holds an important function in the Mongolian and Tuvan shamanistic culture."

This is what I managed to find on the magical web regarding the album in question. Information that does not pertain to the album, but rather to the even lesser-known (perhaps) country of the author’s origin (who did nothing but try to spread the music of his small country, with not much success since I still don’t see it on MTV). But, thinking about it, maybe it’s better this way: it makes the folkloristically intimate nature of this work more understandable, and, having said that, what remains to be said is really little and difficult. This album is really hard to categorize in our mental musical order; let me explain: the sounds you will hear will be truly something "new," primal, uncontaminated. Bombarded as we are by artists who have often proposed a "musical melting pot" (also producing great albums, this is not in question), there are few occasions in which we find ourselves with original sounds (in the sense of origin) in our ears, with sounds truly disconcerting for their purity and their distant and intangible dimension, distant more in time than in space.

"Music from Tuva" is one of these rare occasions. This album truly takes you far away, even beyond the imagination and the images of an orient we have often seen through the lens of a camera acting as a filter. Imagine, as testimony to the already mentioned intimacy of the album, there is even a song dedicated to the horse (an important animal on all levels for the Tuvan people) in which neighs and gallops are reproduced with instruments ("Cheler Ojuhm"). Although we are talking about an album far removed from the more traditional American and European sounds closer to us, the melodies offered are catchy (not enough to end up in the top of the pops, I mean) and not difficult for those accustomed to other folk music, but it is better to start with the idea of facing something different and, therefore, open up the mind a little. 

This album cannot be assimilated with the help of a track-by-track, or a meticulous description of the instruments with which the album was played (obviously all acoustic and clean); the vocals stand out, sometimes acidic and nasal singing, other times clean and vibrant, with remarkable modulations (the more seasoned will immediately think of the incredible vocalizations of Stratos, always remembering that Stratos was inspired by works like these and not the other way around), while the orchestra accompanying Koshkendey performs the fourteen pieces of the album impeccably. As for the rest, what can I say? To be listened to for escaping even from a musical reality today almost oppressive, in its sonic exploration.