The story began a long time ago and more or less by accident. In 1989 I was a student volunteer for the Voices Festival in The Netherlands and Belgium. First I was assigned to assist the King’s Singers on their tour, as a representative of the festival organisation. One of the top choirs in classical music at that moment. Then the festival changed my assignment. They learnt about my interest in world music and decided I was more suitable for a traditional music program. The largest of two groups I guided was Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares, which was quickly becoming a public favorite, with ongoing concert tours around the world for years to come. The other ensemble was much less known: A Cumpagnia from the isle of Corsica. The ensemble was built around the artistic community of Pigna and had just launched an album of traditional Corsican songs on the Harmonia Mundi label.
It was a life-changing experience to witness these musicians rehearse and perform their music day by day, and to assist them with their needs. The best part was yet to come though. At the end of their succesful double-bill tour in the Netherlands and Belgium, they told me one of them would not fly back to Corsica: sensing that this young student was very eager to absorb as much as he could from musical traditions, they wondered: would I be interested to use the ticket and come to Corsica? It was an offer you can’t refuse. But I refused. I had musicology exams coming up and declined the kind offer with pain in my heart. However, the invitation was made, and I would come at a more convenient time.

First visit to Corsica
That moment came Summer next year. With a friend I hitchhiked to South France, got on the ferry and arrived on the stunningly beautiful island of Corsica. There I looked for Mr. Acquaviva in a supermarket he managed in a little town. He kindly invited us to join the rehearsal a few days later, and so I came to make my first visit to the little village of Pigna, the residency of the artistic community of ‘vagabonds’ established over a decade earlier by Toni and Nicole Casalonga. It was (still is) a typical, gorgeous mediterranean hillside village: compact, with small winding cobblestone roads (mostly too narrow for cars), and solid houses built from natural rocks, ages ago. The weekly rehearsal took place at the Casa Musicale, a restaurant and pension at the edge of the village, with a grand view over the Bay of Calvi. It is too long ago to remember all the details; I think they played more instruments than they did in the concert tour, but they surely sang a lot as well. What has really stayed with me, however, is Nando’s invitation to join their singing. I never sang with musicians, only privately, and occasionally. The thought of joining musicians who had just toured in Dutch and Belgium theaters was utterly surprising. Singing? Me? With you?? Nando reassured me, explaining I could simply tag along and try: no big deal! On that spot some of my reservations about my voice, perhaps an instinctive shyness, as if it is something better kept private, vanished. I sang along and thoroughly enjoyed being part of the roaring harmonies these men produced.

We came back later to the Casa Musicale to stay overnight in the pension. I particularly remember eating in the restaurant, on the terrace, and tasting locally grown tomatoes unlike any tomato I ever ate before, as well as a dish with local basil. Al the senses were stimulated enough to make me long to go back. But I had to wait a few decades before that came to pass. The memory of the musicians remained, and in particular of Nando’s unexpected invitation to come to Pigna and join the singing. The seeds were planted and were nourished by the albums of Corsican music I found. Far away from the island itself, I immersed myself time and again in their rich polyphonies and often sang along.

The open-throated voice in traditional polyphonic singing
The singers of A Cumpagnia are all masters of the various forms of Corsican polyphony, the art of weaving several melodic lines together in ever-changing ways. Many Corsican villages have their own distinct repertoire of singing, which are either religious (and based on Latin texts) or secular (and based on poetry in the Corsican language). When singing a paghjella, three male singers produce their own vocal line with a powerful, open-throated chest voice. All vowels are produced with a minimum of obstruction in the vocal tract, in contrast with (European) classical singing, for which the open sound is modified by posturing the back and root of the tongue in different ways, and lowering the jaw. The sound flow is not as direct as it could be, and makes the tone darker. It adds a certain amount of artifice – and quite a lot of it in the case of some singers and styles. Add to it the typical vibrato that is produced deeper down in the throat and you are already far, far away from the natural open-throated sound of traditional Corsican singing.

As a young student, growing up hearing plenty of classical music at home, as well as jazz and pop (with many techniques to add colouring), this natural voice struck me as different. I was mesmerized by the qualities of the voices. There was a rawness and … honesty, as if the inner quality of a man comes through unveiled. When the second and third voice joined the main singer, they supercharged it, their lines joining in full force, making themselves stand out just as clear as the main voice. Usually the Corsican three-part polyphony would proceed as follows: shortly after the main singer begins the opening phrase, the others step in to add a note of their choice. Together they produce a three-tone chord, but the main melody and the chords keep changing. The two other singers follow the lead singer, adding a bass note and another note in between the lead voice and the bass. Each song type has well-established procedures for the development of the main voice. This gives each voice some room to play with their part. The bass wil generally start mid-range and in the course of several phrases descend to the lowest tone. Every time I hear it, this gives me the feeling there is something centering about Corsican polyphony: during a song you experience a gravitational force that is guaranteed to put you firmly on the ground when the phrase or song ends. Another feature is that many songs are in a minor key, but end on a major key.

Nando’s Mimofonia

One of the things that impressed me during A Cumpagnia’s first visit was the use of a sign language to create vocal polyphony. Nando would sing with two other men, and use his hands and fingers to indicate the harmony that they would sing. In this way the trio could remain in a natural flow of singing, while Nando could communicate possibilities and direction for the harmony in real time without talking. He could indicate how fast or slow they would change the chord, moving down or up, holding back certain progressions, make a bigger leap than usuaul etc. I found it amazing that a single person could hear the chords he wished to hear in his head and had a way to tell the others to follow the progressions he was foreseeing.

Another reason why it struck me, was that as a newcomer, the three voices were so resonant, and my ears were so attuned to overtones, that the richness overwhelmed and intoxicated me. Later, when listening to album recordings of Corsican polyphony, I sometimes could not tell how many parts there were. I might believe I was hearing 5 singers when in fact there were only three. And even I saw there were just three singers, I had a hard time catching everything that was happening. In the live sitation, onstage or during practise in Pigna, there was someone for whom all these parts were so transparent, that he had the mental space to create his own line on the spot as well as the two others, and use hand gestures to direct them. Nando did that without visible effort: he had a certain softness in his facial expressions, and a fluency in the way his hands and arms moved. During one visit, I asked him to show me how he used it, and we made photographs of each hand sign. (Unfortunately, I cannot find any video where we see the mimofonia live in action).

20+ years later

Decades later, I had a chance to get to know Nando better during various visits to Corsica, and occasional long-distance phone calls. My wife organised aromatherapy tours in the Meditterranean, and I insisted we should all go to this island, because I had vivid memories not only of the music, but also of the powerful aromas. After I had taken our family of four around the island for a two-week exploration, she felt that this was something to share with her students, lovers of fragrance, flowers, essential oils and botanical and cultural explorations in general. And so I became a tourguide for Chinese-speaking visitors. The itinerary always included a visit to Pigna and a concert or workshop with Nando and other musicians.

When we first arrived as a family, we visited the splendid botanical garden Parc Sallecia before heading for Pigna. In the park’s shop, we bought an album by a singer with the same name as Nando: Battista Acquaviva. That evening we went to the opening of the Festivoce (a great festival that is still happening every year). I saw Nando and introduced myself, 20+ years after we last met. He was standing next to a beautiful, tall lady: the one from the album we had just bought! It was his daughter. And so began a re-acquaintance and deeper understanding of Corsican music.

When the first group of aromatherapists arrived in Pigna next year, Nando performed together with Battista (a privilege that did not last long since she soon became a sensation (12 million views and counting!) in the French version of the popular TV-show The Voice.) Nando shared his passion for Corsican music, and welcomed me at home together with his family each time I visited. It was usually a day, or maybe two, that I was in the region. We had lots to talk about: I was hungry to learn more about his musical life and that of Pigna and the island as a whole. And Nando was very interested in musicology. I learnt that mimofonia was Nando’s own way to understand and create the polyphonic forms of his native region. It was he who had invented this system, which was not in general use – though one other active singer and teacher, Nicole Casalonga, also uses it to this day. Alongside the gestures, Nando wished to codify and indicate the finer variations in tuning, for which Corsican singers posses such a skilled ear.

Last but not least, Nando was a poet, a fanastic storyteller, philosopher: he could talk in the most captivating way about music and connect it with plants, fragrances, history, literature. Above all, he would speak from an unparallelled poetic imagination, weaving words and ideas like no one else. Here is his description of polyphony, from the album A Cumpagnia – in Paghjella:

Besides Casa Musicale, I would sometimes visit Claude Bellagamba, who runs a bar/restaurant in Pigna. His voice rings like a bell and makes the most extraordinary flourishes: you can hear him on many tracks of the seminal album Corsica – Chants Polyphoniques. On one occasion, it was time for a next step in my attempts to understand Corsican polyphony, and give my understanding of mimofonia a try without the aid of other singers singing my part. One of my favorite songs is Ecco Bella, and that’s what we tried to sing together. Click below to hear our version: the lead voice is by Claude Bellagamba, I was trying my best with the bass, and Nando usually comes in later to provide the highest voice.

The pandemic put an end to our yearly travels and I have not returned to Corsica again, yet. I treasure the memories and the generous sharing of his skill and knowledge. He passed on his skills to many others, and especially to Battista, who gives her own unique colour and expression to old and new music from the Balagne and elsewhere. I still take to heart that precious first session in Pigna. I recall this episode in my own Ocean of Voices workshops about musical traditions, encouraging students to start trying out new things with their voices.

Thank you, Nando and family, and thank you, members of A Cumpagnia!

More Sources

The breakthrough album that also led to their tour to the Benelux was E Voce Di U Cumune, Marcel Pérès – Corsica : Chants Polyphoniques from 1987.

Reissued and also on the streaming platforms in its ugly new ‘budget series’ cover. Make sure to check it out, the musicians were all in their prime, around 30 years young.

The album A Cumpagnia In Paghjella is also a great starting point (https://www.casa-editions.com/boutique/p/in-paghjella-a-cumpagnia).

Many more albums can be found on the label Casa Editions, run in Pigna.

If you want to read more:
The definitive work about Nando’s investigations into Corsican polyphony, including his mimofonia, is: Ignazio Macchiarella, ‘Il Restauratore di Polifonie’, in his book Ignazio Macchiarella (editor) – Tre Voce per Pensare il Mondo. Pratiche polifoniche confraternali in Corsica, Il Campo, 2011: pp. 142-.173.
A thorough English introduction to Corsican music is Caroline Bithel’s Transported by Song:
Corsican Voices from Oral Tradition to World Stage. Maryland: The Scarecrow Press, 2007.

Hear another example of an open-throated voice? Listen to each voice in this video I recorded of a Miserere from Castelsardo, Sardinia.

Sardinia and Corsica are also discussed in my book Overtone Singing, with a recording from Sardinia where a very clear overtone melody can be heard above the four singers (on the Anthology of Overtone Singing). Go to the page of The Overtone Singing Book.

Hear Nando and his daughter Battista perform together, at 17m 45s in this video:

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For decades I have known a technique of Western overtone singing that I heard perform only one time. Many singers use the technique on which it is based, which I call the L-technique, as their standard for singing overtones. But I suspect that this particular technique is unknown to most overtone singers. Since hearing the shimmering, glistening sound of this unique method, I practise it occasionally. Recently I notice it does not sound as clear as it used to, and so it is high time to share it with others, who then can also use it. I am now getting it back in shape again and will present this technique in a live performance as part of a longer piece, next month in my solo show In|nbalance in Potsdam. In this video I tell a bit more about it and show the technique.

I will give three workshops especially for Designing Voices in Potsdam about overtones and resonance stuffed with information and exercises about many overtone singing techniques, from various forms of Tibetan chant through Western techniques to Tuvan/Mongolian techniques.

So the technique has one clear characteristic that makes it stand out: it highlights two overtones while not sounding the overtone that is between them. This goes against the common wisdom of every practising overtone singer, which holds that you try to concentrate the sound energy in one clear, central overtone. With this little-known technique, it seems you sort of split this energy out again in two directions around one central overtone that you cannot hear. When normally you try to focus all energy on, say, overtone number 9, you now adjust your tongue so that the energy flows out to numbers 8 and 10, making both of them loud enough to be heard. A rather unusual procedure. Very characteristic is the combination of the seventh and the ninth overtones, leaving out number eight; and also nine combined with eleven (with number ten being inaudible). (For the microtonality / Just Intonation freaks and serious singers: more details about the overtone range at the bottom of this post)

For reasons I cannot fully fathom myself, I have never spoken to anybody about this technique: not with Michael Vetter, not with Borg Diem Groeneveld or with other overtone singers. Somehow it remained this special treasure all this time. It is possible others have heard it and know more: please drop me a line if you do. Since I do not know if Michael Vetter ever gave this technique a name, I need to come up with one. I usually think of it as the ‘parallel third technique’ but there can be a fourth in the low range and possibly seconds in the higher range. I find the parallel thirds the most striking element, however, so I prefer that name: the “parallel-third technique.”

Interesting detail: the storm created a special atmosphere in the church in Utrecht: this was also clearly palpable in the live broadcast itself. It was amplified by the storm we, listeners, heard at home, raging outside. This situation and the name Töne im Sturm is also very fitting for the theme of the In|nbalance program I am working on. Is it a coincidence that unusually strong winds are blowing around my place in Amsterdam for several days now, in September 2025, while I am working on this piece and this video? Every now and then the rain flies past my window almost horizontally. The wind produces ominous, low rumbles day and night; rustling sounds produced by thousands of leaves come and go in waves; and then there are the ‘ordinary’ sounds of wind, mid-range, between these high and low frequencies. Three stacked layers of sound. Just as in the parallel-third technique itself.

Michael Vetter with brezel (pretzel). Photo by Mark van Tongeren

The radio programme that featured Michael Vetter’s concert, baptised Töne im Sturm (‘Tones in the Storm’) by the singer, was De Wandelende Tak, which mostly featured traditional music from around the world, often original recordings by musicians, ethnomusicologists and other people with special knowledge of that tradition. I was a frequent guest myself in this program with recordings from Siberia, Mongolia, Kalmykia and other places. The overtone singing concert from Vetter was characteristic of the ambiguous status of overtone singing, because it is not traditional music, like the content of nearly all other episodes of De Wandelende Tak. The concert was organised by Diem Groeneveld, a long-time Dutch student of Michael Vetter and a fine overtone singer himself. Walter Slosse was the host who interviewed Groeneveld about Vetter before and after the concert, and it was broadcast by the VPRO.

This is my recording of the radio programme, made on a cassette and later transfered to the computer. There is a  silence towards the end for a short while, of which I am not sure at which stage it happened – probably during the A/D conversion.

After listening again, I conclude that Vetter’s technique was in an absolutely superb state at this point,

as can be heard  in all the ‘ordinary styles’of overtone singing. The parallel technique becomes clear particularly at around 12:45, and comes back several times later. 

Töne im Sturm.

Live radio broadcast for VPRO radio’s

De Wandelende Tak, mid-1990s.

Details about the range of overtones and their distances

For the overtone cogniscenti: the extremes on the recording of my own version are overtones ten and twelve, but I can go as high as twelve and fourteen, and as low as six and eight. Every time, the overtone in between them is not audible. Nearly all these combinations are variations of the interval of a third. The interesting thing is of course that every third is different, as the distance between the two tones grows smaller with every higher step on the harmonic scale. The H6 + H8 combination, my lowest combination, is a near-perfect fourth apart (497 cents, in case you were wondering), then next is the largest third H7 + H9 (a very large major third of 435 cents). The thirds progressively decrease their distance: the smallest and highest interval I could still sing clearly with this technique is a very small minor third of the overtones H12 + H14 (266 cents).

To hear this technique in its full splendour, come to Potsdam next month! And to learn more, I will give three workshops especially for Designing Voices in Potsdam about overtones and resonance stuffed with information and exercises about many overtone singing techniques, from various forms of Tibetan chant through Western techniques to Tuvan/Mongolian techniques. Check out all the details here.

For all workshop dates in Amsterdam/Potsdam/

Zürich/Vilnius/Ljubljana/Helsinki:

check my upcoming events page.

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Now, how to search online if your preferred term for the most accessible, most adorable, most transportable instrument happens to be *‘trump’*? By informing yourself about all the other names in existence. ‘Trump’ is but one of more than 1100 names for the same instrument. Phons Bakx, the renowned Dutch Jew’s harp player and researcher, recently shared the latest version of his list with me. Carefully collected during decades of research, with the same rigour that anthropologist Bakx applied earlier to investigations into other obscure instruments, like the bullroarer and a certain non-Tibetan type of singing bowl played on the countryside of Brittany (France).

So check out the 1100+ names for *Jew’s harps*, go to this page

http://www.antropodium.nl/Duizend%20Namen%20Mhp%20voorw%20ENG.htm

and click on this line 

(Click here) ► for the Nomenclature of Jew’s harp Names

Be patient if the list does not show up immediately! If there is a warning, ignore it and click ‘continue’. You might also try this one directly:

https://www.antropodium.nl/Duizend%20Namen%20Mhp%20NOMENCLATUUR.htm

Of course, many names for these ‘marranzano pancakes’ (a term actually in use in the States) are quite common and well-known. In Siberia and far beyond, many people know the *khomus*, here in Taiwan more and more people are becoming familiar with the *lubuw* and in Germanic-speaking countries we have the *Maultrommel*, *mondharp* and *mouth harp*. In South Africa, the Xhosa people’s *isitolotolo* is little-known but gee whiz, what a beautiful name it is!

With ever better translating tools (AI!), we may expect more and more reports around the world about President Khomus, President Isitolotolo, President Lubuw and so on in the next four years – you can read the 1150 other variations for yourself but I continue to use some names here, like *this*, so you know what I am talking about.

Meanwhile excitement is building up here in Taiwan, this time for non-political reasons. Final preparations are made now for the truly grand World Jaw Harp Music Festival. One that was envisioned many years ago, but which due to corona become a rather small-scale event in 2022 (see my photos here). But now it has grown to impressive proportions, with musicians attending from all over the place, plus of course a huge representation of local and regional talents. The performer’s list kept on growing in recent months: it seems a second Asian hub for *doromb* is in the making here! The first Asian hub for *guimbarda* being, what else, Siberia. In particular Yakutia, the republic which carries the *timir khomus* as its emblem, because the Yakuts (or Sakha’s) are the world’s most fanatic makers and players of *pangapoans*.

https://www.jawharpfestivaltw.com/

But who knows about other *gewgaws* in Siberia? What kind of *genggong* music do other indigenous people in Siberia have, such as the Negidaltsi, the Ket, the Chukchi – you probably never even heard the names of these people before (check out the map below to read all their names). So let me share some obscure recordings from the early days of my own *kunka* infatuation. I listened again and again to a double-album (2-LP) I bought in Moscow in 1992, an anthology of indigenous music from Siberia and Russia’s Far East. It was compiled by composer and music collector Igor Bogdanov (whom I met in Moscow in the year 2000, to learn more about an extraordinary triple album of Tuvan traditional music he had produced in the 1980s). There are a total of seven pieces with *vargan* players. This album, and my fieldwork in Tuva in 1993, is where I got my early *morchang* education: not from Yakutia, which is absent on this album (because it is dedicated to the “small-numbered” peoples of Siberia and the Far East). Besides the series of Siberian field recordings from Henri Lecomte on Buda Records (1992-now), each dedicated to one ethnic group, not much was ever published on disc for many of these peoples, as far as I know. And this two-elpee collection stands out as a fantastic introduction to the singing, the instruments and the shamanic séances which can be heard on this gigantic landmass covered in permafrost. (There are quite a few other very obscure instruments, too).

We start with an upbeat style played on the *tumran* from the Khanti-Mansi people (the *names* I write here are the actual names in use by these Siberian peoples). The reverb you hear on all recordings was added in the studio: this was a standard procedure in folk music recordings for Melodiya Records. It adds a certain touch that over time became associated with traditional music recordings from the Soviet Union, and which, I have to admit, has its own charm. 

Next is another upbeat piece from the Selkup, with two instruments indicated, each with a different name: *kypa* and *pyngyr*. Might these be two harps?

We continue with the lovely combination of the *pymyl*, together with the zooming disc mergeykoya from the Ket group. Listen to the lovely layered melodies from the *pymyl*, an octave apart: there is more going on than you might think.

Next are two pieces from Evenki, Eveni and Negidaltsy, the album notes do not tell which one is which.

The first one of these reminds one strongly of the Yakut style of playing and making *kumyzs*. The – presumably Evenki-  instrument is called *kordavun* and is even tuned up a half tone towards the end.

The second of these one is the much lower, darker sounding *kunkakhi* of, I think, the Negidaltsi, with plenty of breathing sounds.

We move on to the Nivkh of the Far East, whose instrument is called *kangan* (pronounced as kan-gan) and with a very low pitch.

The last one is yet something very different, the very dynamic *vanny* from the Chuvash or Chukchi. My guess: the Chukchi, who are living next to the Bering straight. I have once seen a group performing in the Netherlands, with some fine *čangko’uz* playing.

Of course by now you wish to know: where to find these peoples? Here is a map printed in the nice 2-CD compilation The Spirits are Listening. Music of Indigenous Siberian Peoples by Henri Lecomte, whom I mentioned above.

Finally, let me be clear about President Isitolotolo: his election is not a joke, but it is not the end of the world either if you are in the other camp. The Dutch historian Johan Huizinga had this to say about American politics, in his groundbreaking 1938 study Homo Ludens:

More obvious than in British parliamentarianism is the Game element in American political mores. Long before the two-party system in the United States came closest to assuming the character of two teams, whose political difference was hardly distinguishable to the outsider, the electoral propaganda there completely took the form of great national games. The presidential election of 1840 created there the style for all later ones. Candidate then was the popular General Harrison. A program his supporters did not have, but a coincidence gave them a symbol, the log cabin, the rugged log cabin of the pioneer, and with that sign they won. Nomination of a candidate by largest volume of votes, i.e., by loudest shouts, was inaugurated by the election of 1860, which brought Lincoln to his post. The emotional character of American politics already lies in the origins of the national character, which never denied its origins in the primitive relations of a pioneer world. Blind party loyalty, secret organization, mass enthusiasm, combined with a childish desire for external symbols, give to the element of play in American politics something naive and spontaneous, that the younger mass movements in the Old World lack.

That was looking back into the 19th century, and up to Huizinga’s time, 1938. On the previous page Huizinga writes:

Modern culture is hardly ‘played’ anymore, and there where she seems to play, the play is foul. Meanwhile the distinction between play and non-play in the phenomena of civilisation becomes gradually harder to make, as one approaches one’s own time.

Nearly 90 years later things have changed, but reading the words of an original historian and cultural analyst can help us see that our current epoch is not the only one dealing with extreme situations.

My advice: use your *trump* / *lubuw* / *khomus* etc. wisely, as the Italians do: as a *scacciapen­sieri* – a *thought dispeller* or *gedachtenverdrijver*!!

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The word Almanac for this book on sound words is well chosen by the initiator and editor, Bernd Herzogenrath since the entries differ a lot in length, in tone of voice, and in approach. For me it immediately brings to mind the somewhat haphazard nature of the Enkhuizer Almanak. Even a cursory look shows that the publishers (Bloomsbury Academic, mind you!) did not bother to do much editing. I did receive a request to check a word or phrase here and there, but while leafing through the final version now, I immediately and repeatedly stumble upon grammatical errors by contributors for whom English is not their first language, and other mistakes. Example: despite the fact that the almanac follows the alphabet, my own entry, ‘parafonie’, appears after the entries ‘patasurrealism’ and ‘pflotsch’. (Example 2: see photos).

I must say, I am honoured with this special non-alphabetical spot for my contribution; and I am also charmed by the uneven presentation: long and short entries, entries with and without photos, with and without bibliographic notes, some more or less objective and factual, others anecdotal, or highly personal. It is just very fitting for a Sound Word Almanac, which is neither dictionary, nor encyclopedia, and yet is designed to help Everyman navigate the world – in this case, through a list of typical and untypical sound words of foreign lands. The cover is brilliant and says it all: this is not your usual academic book, but some sort of historical relic. A special treasure of obscure knowledge that you cannot find anywhere else. I’d almost say: get it while you can, next year it may be outdated! But whether it’s worth the hefty price tag, is another question – this had better been an affordable artists’ book unless the publisher had done a proper academic-level editing job. Something for the long-term wishlist?

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During one of my concerts in Taucha, Germany, last month, I asked the audience who knows the name Michael Vetter. Several people raised their hands. But as I expected, many people at the Ancient Trance Festival don’t know his name. Of course, quite a few more may have heard his music in the Age of Spotify: you listen but don’t know what album is playing, now that a physical relationship to the medium (as in the time of LPs, CDs) is outdated. Besides, Ancient Trance is not exactly overlapping with Vetter’s artistic direction. He was much more avant-garde, with musical influences from Baroque to Dada and Fluxus, and a host of visual influences, from mediaeval religious painting and Chinese calligraphy to comics.

In the next few weeks O TRIOM is looking back at the life and work of the instrumentalist, vocalist, painter, poet, pedagogue and ordained Zen master Michael Vetter (1943-2013). We will be showing how his legacy continues to inspire, inform and transform our performing today in several concerts, a lecture and workshops. Why? Certainly not because Vetter was such a fine overtone singer. There are and have been many fine overtone singers, and Vetter’s style of singing and performing was one of many – not ‘just’ one of many, but a very influential one, to be sure. In the 1980s, anyone wanting to do something with overtone singing went to Vetter’s workshops and bought his albums, at least in very active German-speaking areas (and The Netherlands too). Vetter set certain standards for overtone singing, for a certain period of time, and those standards hardly changed.

Michael Vetter making Indian ink drawings, Academia Caparaia, Italy, 2009. (Photograph Mark van Tongeren under protection of Creative Commons CC BY-NC-ND)

The interest of O TRIOM in Vetter also started with overtone singing, but soon branched out in many other directions. For example: Vetter as a typical Zen Buddhist. He insists again and again that one should give undivided attention to what one is doing when making music (or anything else, though he would not talk about anything, but about art). And he applied this attitude in all his music, and all his other creative work, as well as his cooking and everyday life. When I read and re-read his texts, or when I go through the conversations we had and the interviews I did with him, I frequently stumble upon contradictions (literally: ‘counter-speaking’) concerning his spiritual or religious outlook. You may be looking to clarify his positions towards spiritual questions, and find that he has much to say about that. Many people felt he was a very religious person and his biography testifies to that. Certainly a believer! But then you will sooner or later find a remark in which he warns for overzealous religious interpretations. “Here and there one learns about the connection between overtones and Our Lord. That is far removed from me!” And yet, many of his art and music works bear very clear Christian (and not just Zen) elements.

It seems that it does not make sense. And that is exactly what we can take away from Michael Vetter (or maybe from Zen in general), and what keeps me coming back to him for fresh insights: there is no single, or final way to talk about or do anything. There are only temporarily, or partially ‘true’ or ‘convincing’ arguments to believe, or positions to take. As soon as one clings too much to certain truths, it is time to let it go again and look for yet another perspective .

In the weeks to come we will prepare ourselves with this in mind: try as best as you can to follow certain aesthetic and creative paths, and be always willing to throw them overboard again and replace them with something new. I am excited about this moment in our O TRIOM collaboration, which began in early 2022, if I remember well. And I salute the brilliant artist who bridged so many visions and visuals, sounds and musics, thoughts and dreams in a lifetime bursting with creative output.

Read an earlier post about why we should remember Michael Vetter here.

PROGRAM

FOR CONCERT TICKETS

CLICK HERE

O TRIOM Artists

LEE Wei Lin

LU Qi Chung

Mark van Tongeren

Production

Organizer| Taiwan Overtone Singing Association TOSA
Executive Producer  | Lee Chichen
Visual Design  | Bai Chi Hao
Image source | Michael Vetter

Lecture| prof. CHUNG Mingder

Taiwan Overtone Singing Association is also on Facebook.

Photos from a 2014 concert by O TRIOM

O TRIOM 紀念米歇爾·費特大師 系列泛音講座、工作坊暨音樂會

與談者將說談泛音音樂在台灣發展的故事，從當年北藝大邀請國外泛音音樂家來台傳藝及演出，到《OM泛唱作為藝乘》一書的誕生，泛音藝術家米歇爾・費特大師的生平創作故事，及至往後泛音音樂在台灣生根2022年台灣泛音詠唱協會TOSA的成立。

＊同場放映呂啓仲拍攝之泛音藝術家費特大師來台紀錄片《Transverbal穿越語言的相遇》。

｜工作坊內容｜

介紹「泛音唱法」，引領學員如何唱和體驗泛音，藉由唱出和聽到泛音，踏上精神的探險之旅。

點此報名工作坊＆講座

O TRIOM 米歇爾‧費特大師 紀念音樂會

時間：

2023/10/21  六 19:00

2023/10/22 日  14:00

地點：

夢響廳 Dreamphony Hall

新北市蘆洲區光榮路97巷59號

**捷運蘆洲站步行約5分鐘**

演出者：Mark van Tongeren．呂啓仲．李維琳

 音樂會購票點此 

O TRIOM 演出者

製作團隊

主辦單位| |台灣泛音詠唱協會

執行製作  | 李紀辰

視覺設計 |  白濟豪

圖片來源 | Michael Vetter

講座講者| 鍾明德教授

台灣泛音詠唱協會Facebook

Read an earlier post about why we should remember Michael Vetter here.

The post O TRIOM remembers Michael Vetter appeared first on Fusica.

or how to combine the art of writing meaningful non-sense texts with hypnosis methods

Next week I am teaching a group of hypnosis students in Taipei. They are the students of a man who goes by the nickname of La Mian (ramen, or Japanese thick noodles) who is specialized in hypnosis and teaches and applies it in a wide range of methods. He came to my workshop Ocean of Voices recently, a 3-day exploration of the richness of musical traditions around the world (focusing on the voice). We had several amazing sessions where everyone went through his or her own transformations while singing, chanting, drumming, playing, or just listening to everyone else. Paths to change the body, change the mind and empower your creative imagination through the voice: a dynamic key or bridge that sits in between the body and mind, working its logical and illogical ways in both directions.

Photos taken during the Oceaen of Voices of workshop in Nantou, Taiwan. Above, La Mian with the Bunun people from XinYi. Below, session during the workshop.

You could call the logical part the verbal: the voice as speech, as reason and gossip.

You could call the illogical part transverbal: the voice as sound and music, as noise and non-sense.

Transverbal is a term Michael Vetter coined to group together, and give purpose to, his vast corpus of creative work, in music, in visual arts, in writing. It led, among other things, to his writing of okyo’s, which is Japanese for sutras. His sutras were not Buddhist texts, but used the sounds of the Japanese language as a template from which he created ‘texts’ without meaning. It was not merely a capricious thing, a joke, or an anti-religious sentiment. Vetter was serious about it. He had practised chanting and reciting actual sutras for year after year during his 13 year stay in Japan, going about the streets begging for alms or performing ceremonial. But, in a true Zen vein, he would not eschew the occasional humorous twist in his own okyos either.

I got to know Michael Vetter’s okyos in the mid 1990s and was impressed with their form and sound and Vetter’s precise reasoning for why he created them. Later I began to write my own occasional okyos. Last year I decided to write an okyo every day for one year, to commemorate Michael’s birth (in 1943) and passing (in 2013), now eighty and ten years ago. I shape these okyos, naturally, but they also shape me, and invite me or teach me to push for new ideas about sound, language and symbol. Here is one example which I will take to the Hypnokyo workshop:

Here is another one

And here is one that you can listen to in the video, below:

 

So next week my okyos are going to be tested by students of hypnosis. They learn a range of sounding techniques that could enhance or expand their hypnosis practise. I am really looking forward to see what they will do with it, and hope I can be their guinea pig to test the efficacy of the okyos. Not long ago, hypnosis was regarded as somewhat occult, esoteric and strange. In recent years it has become more widely accepted and it began to loose its strangeness in public opinion. The approach now seems to be more practical: it is yet another way for us – complicated, sensitive and often limited and hyperrational human beings – to understand the mysteries of life and self, and to make sense of the world around us in new, more attuned ways.

You can enjoy listening to one of my okyos in this video (thanks to Sky for editing).

And I will read this week’s episode of one of my favorite newsletters, which happens to be devoted to clinical hypnosis.

The post HYPNOKYO appeared first on Fusica.

That was the signal to also let the Anthology of Overtone Singing go public. First of all on Bandcamp, where the audio is now available for streaming or purchasing. I also submitted all tracks to Apple Music, Spotify etc. etc. 25 Artists that are not featured on Apple Music and Spotify yet now will be represented there. It took me about a year of preparations and it meant not a small thing to press that ‘SUBMIT’ button to me.

So book and music are available now from Terra Nova Press, from me and next week also from a European address. We are still working out the best solution to offer the music and the book in one go. For the moment, the book is available through Terra Nova Press and by writing to me directly, while the Anthology is available in Bandcamp. Possibly we offer both in one package very soon.

There is a limited number of books available with a CD that is nearly identical with the streaming version from Bandcamp: just two tracks have been shortened a bit to fit onto the CD format. Details will soon be published on Bandcamp; you can also write to me if that is what you need.

The major platforms will  start selling and shipping the book in December or January.

For now, get it directly from one of us!

Book on Terra Nova Press:

https://www.terranovapress.com/books/overtonesinging

Book and/or Anthology Album on Bandcamp:

https://markvantongeren.bandcamp.com/album/anthology-of-overtone-singing

You will find more details about the book on this page.

The post Book and Audio Anthology published appeared first on Fusica.

Video impresssion: Colours Rhythms & Cycles

NEW CLASS: SHRUTI NIGHTS

I began a new class: Shruti Nights, and ran No. I-VIII throughout the year, each with a different theme.

Listen to a nice duet I did with Sunny, translator, co-producer of many of my events, and talented singing student.

RADIOGARDEN BROADCAST

MUSHIMARU’s PHYSICAL POETS

I joined a Butoh workshop and performance by the huge family of Butoh dancer Mushimaru Fujieda and his regular students and collaborators, twenty in total. They came flying in to Taiwan from Japan, Hong Kong and other places, paying from their own pockets. Very dedicated and truly inspiring!

With Hiroyuki Matsuhisa (moham-veena), Shree Katsura (voice and suwarmandar), Mikio Kawasaki (photographer); Sogyu Fukumura, a very famous monk who quit Buddhism decades ago and became activist; Himeko Narumi, whom I visited in her bar in Kyoto a few weeks later; Vinci Mok from Hong Kong, not to mention lots of interesting old and new friends from Taiwan. Our performance UNDER THE TREE OF LIFE  is on Youtube, beginning here with the entry of Mushimaru himself.

Recently many Taiwanese repaid the visit to Japan to collaborate with the same people, and one commented that the same performance turned into a rather hard-edged, noisy, radical performance, completely different from the soft version here in Taiwan. More true to the Butoh spirit, for sure, but I was still impressed with Mushimaru and all the kids who joined the event in Taiwan as very narural, innocent performers.

SANGPUY live IN TAIPEI

LUGANG and its AUTOMATED SONIC SURPRISES

Trip to Lugang, where we were deeply impressed by the Longshan Temple. It is not as famous as some other old temples in Lugang, which are more centra. But by far our favorite. Major reasons: little modernization, no entertainment, quite silent (no tourgroups with amplified guides). However, in both temples I encountered automated percussion devices. There was a procession leading to the very noisy and central Mazu Temple or Tian Hou Temple. I had to get away at some point because of the incredibly loud firecrackers, which I found unbearable, and our dog really got shocked from it.

There was no smoke anywhere, and it turned out the noise was produced by a firecracker machine, which you see at the end of this video.

A little later, in Lungshan Temple, I noticed a drum was playing all the time but I saw no one beating it. It turned out to be another automatic device producing percussive sounds, just like the firecracking machine.

PULI, CENTRAL TAIWAN: WORKSHOP

In April I was off to Puli, central Taiwan, for a workshop and another one with Canjune, exploring herbs and plants in the forests. From the roof of a cinnamon producer, a panorama of Puli’s iconic Chung Tai Chan (= Zen) Temple.

After the workshop, re-connect with a nun I got to know in 2004, with a fantastic voice: Guanzu Shi. For all these years she is studying the performance of a specific song in the Huayen Buddhist tradition, for which the way to pronounce many syllables is not exactly known.

SAINKHO and KAZHUHISA ICHIHASHI in JAPAN

First trip to Japan. Too many impression so share, but here’s a few. Basically a family tour but, lucky me, I ran into Sainkho one or two days before she launched her new CD with Kazuhisa Uchihashi in Beijing. Great show together!

SANGPUY TURNING the NATIONAL THEATRE UPSIDE DOWN

https://tifa.npac-ntch.org/2019/en/music/sangpuy-in-concert/

What a lovely guy, and what a great show he pulled off. The most astounding thing was that after the ‘normal’ stage show, which already featured lots of people from his village Jrben, some girls began singing and dancing in the lobby. The men joined and sure enough hundreds of people began to join the line after a while. The whole thing lasted at least another 45 minutes, with the last part (not in this video) some very high-energy indigenous male dancers/singers promoting their upcoming hot dance show.

TAIWAN EASTCOAST TOUR

To Mud Studio in Yilan, Zhishan for workshop in Poco a Poco, my first houseconcert in Taiwan, near Hualien, and another concert in Hualien. See my special blogpost.

WATERPERFORMANCE WITH YEH MING-HWA

Or: how not to breath.

DUTCH CANJUNE STORE IN AMSTERDAM

VISIT to BERNARD KLEIKAMP of PAN RECORDS

Bernard produced a dozen or so throat singing CDS and many other interesting titles from around the world. All from this modest office.

EXCHANGE OF NEW TIBTEAN MUSIC PUBLICATIONS

I bring Pan Records’ new CD Phursang Kelak Lama to Ricardo Canzio on behalf of Bernard Kleikamp. Ricardo gave me his precious new book Sakya Pandita’s Treatise on Music.

WITH TRAN QUANG and BACH YEN in PARIS

See the blogpost.

IN ROME FOR THE CAVE OPERA

WORLD MUSIC FESTIVAL TAIPEI

AROMAJOINT PERFUMANCE

VOICE YOGA WINTER SOLSTICE RETREAT

THANKS TO THE TEAM!

The post 2019 in pix, videos and some stories appeared first on Fusica.

Michael Vetter had a remarkable critical attitude towards a wide range of topics, traditions and disciplines. He knew exactly what he needed from them and was always able to state with great clarity how they related to each other and, if applicable, to his own work. Another feat is how he succeeded in developing a total vision for the many arts he practiced (fine arts, performing arts, and writing, to start with) and for spiritual and contemplative practises, primarily Christianity and Zen Buddhism. He knew both from inside out – and that is something not many composers or musicians could say. Most of them who claim Zen inspiration have flirted with it or studied it from a distance. Vetter lived the life of a monk several months a year for a decade, practising alongside Japanese monks and the occasional foreigner. He also studied theology for some years, which at the time (early 1960s) meant deep-reading of existential and other philosophical and psychological authors. Small wonder a large portion of his work is imbued with themes at the heart of the human experience. Often, in fact, he looked one or more levels deeper, beneath the surface, to find the roots of symbol, communication, emotion, illusion, aesthetic form, signs …

Michael Vetter making Indian ink drawings, Academia Capraia, Italy, 2009 (photo by Mark van Tongeren)

Some of Michael Vetter’s boxes with about two years worth of daily ink drawings, Das Buch der Zeichen. Photo by Mark van Tongeren

There is a lot of music out there that can touch me deeply, from the abstract (Morton Feldman’s Coptic Lights) to the popular (Stevie Wonder’s Black Man or As, which recently made me burst out in tears), from the dream-like and hallucinating (Biosphere’s Substrata) to the Romantic (Schubert/Müller’s Winterreise), etc .etc. And even though I know and do believe that quite a few of all those artists that I like have interesting ideas, I also know that many of them don’t necessarily have a vision that resonates deeply with me. The case with Vetter is different. He was someone whose works I often enjoyed or admired, but who also inspired me with his grand vision about, well, almost anything. I have deep respect for the way he could balance his own interests in the arts, in society, in spirituality and religion, and –not last but not least either – in everyday life. And then how he weaved all those themes together in a remarkably consistent and coherent whole, so that each part could always be linked in multiple ways to any other part. Many of us would at some point have to let others do the talking, for example when tough philosophical questions come up; or shy away from certain artistic challenges; or not quite know how our contemporary work relates to, say, late mediaeval painters; not so with Michael. He would always have an answer and keep you wondering about the next three questions. Which, of course, he would whole-heartedly welcome and answer too.

O yes, it is time I write up some of my ideas about him in a more substantial way – even if it were to see if I could emulate his ability to answer just a single tough question of some scope (I did try it, partly). The magnitude of his vision was simply too much to know where to begin during these past six years, but I consider it not yet too late to do so.

I still hear you, Michael Vetter!

Bonus video: Jetzt… Du (Now… You), from the 1986 Zen record series, played on the Japanese koto zither.

The post I still hear you! appeared first on Fusica.

I learned of Hai’s work on overtone singing in the early 1990s. When I got to know him personally, I was astounded and (I will admit) a bit intimidated by his unbridled energy. He loves to share what he does, and he is in fact overflowing with enthusiasm: for overtone singing, for Vietnamese music, for playing the Jew’s harp and spoons, for ethnomusicology, for his constant travels as a performer and teacher. After my visits I was usually exhilirated (about all the new things I had learned or shared with him) and at the same time exhausted (feeling my life was a mess with no progress at all).

In fact, going to Paris has been almost synonymous with visiting Hai and his lovely wife Bach Yen (whose singing carreer goes way way back). And these visits became almost synonymous with absolutely great Vietnamese food. Bach Yen often spent hours and hours to buy fine ingredients like all kinds of fresh leaves, vegetables, seafood and meat and prepare them the Vietnamese way. We would have excellent diners, drank nice wine, as the couple made an annual ‘pilgrimage’ to different regions in France to stock up on boxes of quality wine to share with friends at home.

After moving to Taiwan, my encounters with Tran Quang Hai were scarce, and visits to both of them even more. In 2019, it has been around ten years since we last met in Paris. So I was delighted to see them again some weeks ago. Tran Quang Hai retired a decade ago from the ethnomusicology department at the Musée de L’Homme in Paris, but has remained an active performer and workshop leader for all these years. Bach Yen is a famous singer of popular songs and entertainment music, as well as a singer of many different genres of traditional music. Together they have given hundreds of concerts in Europe and elsewhere, and they continue to do so. Here is a photo of their appearance in Genoa, Italy, a week or so after I met them.

Late August, when I walked down the platform of Gare de Lyon, Hai and Bach Yen were waiting for me. Once again I was overwhelmed to be in their buzzing, energetic presence. The first thing they did, was to get out their cameras and make many photos together. Then we strolled to their car, and their warm hands and arms embraced my arms. I sometimes think of myself as someone who easily touches people, but this time I thought I am quite distant compared to them. It was really (excusez le mot) touching to stroll down the platform chatting and to be ‘wrapped’ by their tender hands and arms on both sides. Hai told me once about using his hands to heal people and showed me some methods. But it seems the couple just radiates warmth and energy naturally, even without using a special method.

For our Vietnamese food, this time we drove to a place called Pho Bida, pronounced Fo Beeyaa. Pho is the famous Vietnamese noodle soup, but what about Bida? It turns out to be derived from ‘billiard’, as the former location of this restaurant housed a popular billiard room as well. The place is not very spacious but we were early and could chose any seat. By the time we left lots of people waited outside. The food was great and loved by Vietnamese and non-Vietnamese alike: highly recommended! (Pho Bida Vietnam, 36 rue Nationale, 75013 Paris)

Tran Quang Hai’s New Book

When we sat down, Hai gave me his new book, a thick volume with many of his articles and listst of all his achievements, titles, appearances, etc. organized in a single volume. Some articles I have known for a long time. So I particularly enjoyed reading those things I did not know in detail.

First, an article about Vietnamese music and its historical background, very helpful for understanding the relationship to Chinese music and culture. It also covers many of the recent developments in Vietnamese music, making it in effect a kind of encyclopaedic entry into Vietnam and all its music. With this work Hai most clearly follows in the footsteps of his late father Tran Van Khe, also a well-known musician and musicologist.

“Tran Quang Hai. 50 Years of Research in Vietnamese Traditional Music and Overtone Singing.”

Second, an article that accompanied a double CD issued in France in 1997, dedicated to the absolutely fascinating world of mountain tribe musics in Vietnam. There is a dazzling array of types of instruments and ways of playing, and these liner notes give a good overview of this field.

If you are interested in overtone singing and still love printed matter, as I do myself, then this is a good way to get your (physical) hands on several key articles on this technique by Dr. Tran Quang Hai and understand the background of his research. (Note for academic readers: for research purposes it is better to consult online pdfs of the articles in their original format). Available here.

Tran Quang Hai and the Dan Moi

During our lunch I also learned where the common name of the Vietnamese brass Jew’s harp comes from. It is usually referred to as dan moi, which is a Vietnamese word (compare for example dan tranh/đàn tranh, the plucked zither, or the unique one-string zither dan bau/đàn bầu). However, the thin, finely crafted Jew’s harp, probably smaller than any other type of Jew’s harp, originates from the mountain tribes who live close to Yunnan in South China. The Hmong’s native language and culture has little to do with that of the dominant Viet or Kinh ethnic group, who are historically tied to China. When travelling in the mountains in North Vietnam (around Sapa), I encountered the Hmong people who play this instrument and managed to get one made locally by their craftsmen. They referred to it as gya, phonetically speaking, though in writing it is referred to as djam. A personal note from Tran Quang Hai shortly after publishing this post: the Hmong name of the Jew’s harp is ncas (pronounced ncha).

The djam I bought in Sapa from girls who played the instrument along the mountain road. (photo by the author).

So I asked Hai how the name dan moi came about. He explained: there is no Jew’s harp in the music of the ethnic Vietnamese. So when he learned about the traditions of the mountain people around 50 years ago, he had to make up a new name himself in order to accommodate the minorities’ instrument in the system and language of Vietnam. To use ‘dan’ (meaning ‘instrument’) was an obvious beginning point. Hai decided to add ‘moi’ for lips, to designate it is played between the lips. Most brass or metal Jew’s harps are held against the teeth, with the lamella vibrating between the teeth; the dan moi is held between the lips and vibrates there. In this sense it is more like a type of wooden or bamboo Jew’s harp, particularly the ones vibrated by a string attached to one side.

A Hmong girl playing the djam for me in 2003 (photo by the author).

The dan moi went on to become a very popular instrument around the world once non-Vietnamese musicians discovered them, at the turn of the millenium. Many people asked me for it when I brought them back in 2003. I remember giving one to Tuvan throat singer Sainkho around 2004. She immediately fell for its bright sound and expressive qualities, and asked for more several times after (and so did other people). At the same time, a German company saw the potential of this cheap instrument to reach a huge audience and set up (web)shop, calling it www.danmoi.com. It has a become a one-stop shop to buy all kinds of Jew’s harps. So dan moi, Hai’s new name for the djham, a minority instrument, and for Jew’s harps in general, now has become sort of a symbol of 21^st century global Jew’s harp culture. And it seems to be growing year by year: here in Taiwan I have seen many new Jew’s harp enthusiasts taking the stages recently, often sporting a collection of world Jew’s harps, including, of course, the dan moi.

Here is a video where you see the movement of the dan moi lamella in slow motion, played by Hai’s student Dang Khai Nguyen.

Learn more about Tran Quang Hai

Hai is still actively teaching, find out where his next workshops are by going to his blog:

https://tranquanghaisworldthroatsinging.com

(the blog itself amounts to a ‘wikipedia’ of sorts for throat/overtone singing, where you will find a huge amount o copies of scientific and popular articles, videos, and indeed copies of wikipedia entries, as well as some original posts about Hai’s workshops and travels).

Go here to find more entries in English and in Vietnamese:

https://tranquanghai1944.com

https://tranvankhe-tranquanghai.com

And for more news from Fusica and Mark van Tongeren subscribe to these blogposts here.

Finally, back to some Asian flavour, but East-Asian instead of the South-East Asian of Hai’s origins. Here is a hilarious video from the time Hai was flown into Japan to demonstrate overtone/throat singing in a hypertheatrical popular entertainment program.

TRAN QUANG HAI on JAPANESE TELEVISION, part 2, December 26, 2012

* OK, for this one I have no way to tell if it is true, but Hai does mention in his new book (page  32) that he wrote “more than 500 articles in Vietnamese for 30 Vietnamese magazines in America, Europe, Asia and Australia.”

The post Catching up with Tran Quang Hai appeared first on Fusica.