Archive Recording Reviews
In this installment of the EAR you will find a reviews by Shireen N. Heidari and Dr. Sam Parnes. If you are interested in reviewing Archive recordings for the EAR please contact us for more information.
Philippine Dance Gathering and Workshops 2001, organized by Kayamanan ng Lahi (Part of the Archive's AFAMILA Collection: Archive ID # 2003.05)
Reviewed by Dr. Sam Parnes
This gathering, the largest educational event in Southern California relating to Philippine dance and its music, took place in the Ackerman Union at UCLA from August 8 to 12. Similar events had larger participation and attendance; for example, the annual Festival of Philippine Arts and Culture, but lacking educational workshops, they were limited to performance and display. This event should more accurately be called Gathering and Workshops of Philippine Dance and Its Music. Otherwise it is assumed that when the event ends, the only thing learned is the choreography.
The organizer is the leading Philippine dance troupe in the Los Angeles area, Kayamanan ng Lahi (Treasures of Our People), founded in 1990. The four leaders of the troupe since its establishment are Joel and Ave Ramos Jacinto, and Boy and Barbara Ele Angos. Joel Jacinto, its cultural program director, and his wife Ave, administrator, were active with the UCLA Samahang, the Philippine club. The other two leaders were raised and educated in the Philippines Boy Angos, the troupe’s music director, is a son of Nitoy Gonzales, who was best known as the rondalla (plucked string band) maestro of the Bayanihan Philippine Dancers, while his wife, Kayamanan’s choreographer, danced in this group. Bayanihan’s frequent worldwide tours since 1958 have made them the ambassadors of Philippine traditional dance.
Thirteen videos document the Philippine Dance Gathering. The filmmaker, Mark Eby, studied at the World Arts and Culture department at UCLA and graduated in 2001. Son of American missionaries, he was raised in the Western Highlands of Papua New Guinea, and later received a Fulbright Award to document Melanesian music and dance. His major accomplishment is his 2003 film for public television American Aloha: Beyond Hawai’i, and the video of the 2002 World Festival of Sacred Music in Los Angeles. He established a documentary film company, Azbri. The UCLA Center for Intercultural Arts was the Gathering’s principal sponsor. The videos were made possible by the National Endowment for the Arts, the California Arts Council, the Los Angeles County Arts Commission, and the Fund for Folk Culture. The Ford Foundation supported the post-production.
The participants are based in Manila, Honolulu, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. Founded in 1972, the Ramon Obusan Folkloric Group from Manila was represented by its founder and Orlando Ocampo, its music director since the late 1980s. From the late 1990s, the troupe has produced annually a conference, and, as of 2004, six recordings with accompanying music scores. The ethnomusicologist Ricardo Trimillos, an emeritus professor at the University of Hawaii, directed its rondalla for many years. Danongan Kalanduyan, raised in Datu Piang, Cotobato, is the leading exponent of kulintang (the Moslem gong and drum ensemble of the Southern Philippines) in the United States. Based in San Francisco, he is the only Filipino who received the National Heritage Fellowship from the National Endowment of the Arts. The Los Angeles-based BIBAK troupe directed by Michael Wandag, represents the indigenous societies of the Luzon Mountains: Bontoc, Ifugao, Benguet, Apayao, and Kalinga, also known as Igorots. The Lumad, that is indigenous music of the Mindanao mountains, had no representatives. Between the Obusan and Kayamanan troupes, enough instruments and recordings were gathered to present a workshop.
The Philippine Dance Gathering began with three general sessions. The first video featured two of them, Ricardo Trimillos and Ramon Obusan, presenters. In both of these, Ramon Obusan showed selections from one hundred videos compiled from thirty-eight years of fieldwork. Since the workshops did not allow time to show more than a few seconds of each dance, he asked the audience to watch the videos more thoroughly, if they requested to do so, at another time during the Gathering. Dr. Trimillos then explained the process of learning in the Philippines.
In the first workshop, seventeen dances were shown. Their occasions range from saint days, weddings and funerals, and fishing. A healing dance, Baluga came from a Pampangan town that was later buried in the lahar following the eruption of Mount Pinatubo. The use of one of the dances, Baliw Baliw from Cebu, is unique, for it is meant to deceive the weather. In Capiz province, an admirer of the Charleston developed a social dance. Obusan likened the variety of dances in the Philippines to ingredients in a cake. He advised the participants to do away with formulas learned in elementary school, and to treat each dance like a ritual. Obusan also gave many reasons why one dances: for the general welfare of the community, to express repressed feelings, to appease the gods, etc.
In the second workshop, Obusan showed eighteen dances. Six of them were versions of the Pastores, featuring Christmas carolers from the Bicol and neighboring Waray Waray-speaking regions. One dance featured a unique setting: a temporary structure on top of which was placed bamboo slats that sounded while people performed. A Nagta piece from Negros Oriental province, accompanied by a banjo, was part of a church festival that also included a shaman. Each dance on Obusan’s videos was labeled at the onset, with either the name of the dance or the minority group, as well as the province. Unfortunately in the second workshop, there were technical difficulties with the color, so the video appeared blue. Obusan mentioned that a dancer preferably has to visit, be moved by, and know the values and collective mentality of a given people in order to perform their repertoire authentically. Ballet Philippines’ Igorota, with pirouettes in G strings, was an insult.
In the second part of the first workshop, Dr. Trimillos mentioned that learning in the Philippines is usually done by rote. Among rondalla musicians, the order of learning is similar to that for the gamelan: first the melody, then the harmony, finally the countermelody. The beginning pupil imitates the maestro, then obtains the ability to improvise the harmony, then create the countermelody. An audio and a video example illustrated the learning process. In the audio, a daughter in the Sulu Islands sang the Islamic mawlid for her first time in public. Her mother guided her an octave lower. A video of tagunggo from the Manobo society shows the son playing an ostinato on one gong, while the father alternates dance with performance of the other hanging gongs. The son becomes tired and slows down, then the father asks him to pick up the tempo.
Dr. Trimillos also compared a few mental and physical processes in the Philippines and among Filipino Americans, and how they relate to learning. Because his family were ilustrados, they spoke Spanish as well as the local Visayan dialect, but when they arrived in the United States, English was encouraged, and Spanish looked down upon. Among Americans, looking at people’s faces is necessary in order for them to believe you understand them. In the Philippines, staring is impolite. While learning a gabbang xylophone or similar instrument in the Philippines, the pupil submits to the teacher, who physically guides his/her hands. In the United States, that is sexual harassment. In the Philippines, special restaurants exist where one eats with one’s hands.
In the second part of the second workshop, Dr. Trimillos examined two systems of teaching: the guru and the maestro. The pupil lives in the guru’s house and becomes his servant. Maestros usually teach harp and rondalla instruments. Their pupils meet for several hours, usually in the afternoon under their houses (commonly raised on stilts). The students are beholden to the maestro for the rest of his or her life, and favors are exchanged between them. One must accept the maestro, or leave. Another video example of tagunggo music, this time from the Bagobo society, ended the presentation. It showed the musicians instructing the older ladies how to dance. A young girl performed the gong ostinato, but her father took over near the end of the example. A question/answer session that concluded the second workshop focused mainly on the subject of how Obusan established rapport with the various villages he visited. One enters the first house one sees, and accepts food and drink. Quickly the entire village learns of this nice gesture, then the guest is welcomed to stay there. The camera remained focused on the two presenters while the audience members asked questions.
In this video, and elsewhere, closeups dominated. They are appropriate during dances, and to emphasize the technique of the instrumentalists. Occasional closeups of the audience and speakers should also occur. With too much closeup on the latter, the result is a blur when panning the camera when the speaker stops talking, and another individual across the room begins. Also inappropriate were some closeups of the lower parts of the people’s bodies when they were not dancing.
During the first part of the third general session (video 2), Ramon Obusan and Ricardo Trimillos compared music and dance in natural and artificial contexts. Questions were pondered, such as what and how much of a music or dance entity should be performed before an audience. The 1998 Smithsonian Folklife Festival directors desired the arts to be presented as authentically as possible, hence they questioned the use of an electric piano to accompany a Cebuano version of the Stations of the Cross. The Catholic church musicians from Negros Oriental brought over to Washington DC said that this was the way they always performed the repertoire, thus the Smithsonian presenters relented. The Kalinga “Banga” dance features the balancing of many waterpots over one’s head. It is performed exclusively before audiences primarily by Christian Filipinos. In its natural context, each woman balances one waterpot on her head every morning by the river. They also wash themselves, their clothes, and their carabaos. In 1964 during one of Ramon Obusan’s fieldtrips, a few of the washerwomen spontaneously danced and sang on some stones in the middle of the river.
The remaining question was on the difference between American and Filipino audiences. Americans tend to care little about the context of the dances. Before them, a bride and groom dance is sufficient; however, a film excerpt from a performance that occurred in the Cultural Center of the Philippines proves that a Filipino audience wants an abridged recreation of an entire wedding, in this case Yakan, with its procession and food rituals, and culminating with the bride and groom dance. The Filipino audience also tends to shout while the dance is in progress. Because the American audience shouts and claps only when each dance ends, a Filipino audience is often recreated on stage, especially during the suite of fiesta dances typical near the closing of a typical program that the Bayanihan troupe performs. A segment of the film Bayanihan illustrated this.
The workshop continued with Danongan Kalanduyan, and ended with Michael Wandag Kalanduyan first described the change in kulintang ensemble performance. Until recently, the kulintang sounded only before the sultan or at other special occasions. Only men could play the drum, and women the agung gong. The healing dance of the Magindanao, the Moslem society of which Kalanduyan is a part, was discussed, and a snatch of a film featuring the Kalanduyan family kulintang was seen.
Before his portion of the workshop, Wandag demonstrated a Benguet cry and asked the audience to do the same. His talked about his Kalinga background, and said that its music was louder and more warlike than the other music styles of the various indigenous Luzon mountain societies. A brief snatch of a film showed a dance in a Kalinga town, followed by a demonstration of the gangsa gongs with Joel Jacinto. The following question/answer session included a discussion on whether the word “Igorot,” is pejorative. For many people, especially in the United States, it was, since their display at the 1904 Saint Louis World’s Fair. To most of the Igorots, it is not.
The next video features Ramon Obusan’s presentation on Philippine material culture. It was blank, hence it is uncertain whether the session was videotaped.
The gathering continued with eight music workshops. The next two videos (the fourth and fifth of 13) feature Orlando Ocampo’s Philippine Music Overview. Ricardo Trimillos introduced Ocampo, and occasionally interjected comments. Occasionally an audience member asked a question. The first part of the overview focused on the music instruments of the indigenous Luzon mountain societies, and the lowland Christians. A considerable portion of the indigenous discussion was devoted to the gangsa gongs. Demonstrations revealed that the gongs were performed either with beaters or with the hand, and that both gongs and drums (sulibao) have to be as much felt as sounded through holding them on the body. (The native terms for “beaten” “played by the hand,” and the various instruments were given, but unfortunately these were not spelled out on the screen. Furthermore, the same instrument can bear many native names. This problem persists throughout the videos; for example, when a given piece of music is performed, its title should be on the screen at its onset. Ocampo was holding a sheet of orange paper, with no explanation of why) Through further demonstrations, gong rhythms and techniques of the various societies were compared. While the Kalinga hold them, the Tingguian lay them on the floor, and perform them with beaters in a sitting position. Bamboo gong substitutes, stamping tubes, panpipes (saggeypo), nose and mouth flutes, the death-announcing percussion sticks (bangibang) and bamboo buzzers (bunkaka) were also demonstrated. Unfortunately the mouth flute was so cracked that a pitch could not be sounded. The breath from the nose symbolizes life, while the mouth represented the mundane, such as eating. Although thinner and slightly larger, the Igorots have a triangle looking like the one in a Western orchestra. An mbira-like instrument more common in Taiwan is found only among the Iwaks of Nueva Vizcaya. After recorded examples of the Tingguian violin and nose flute, the workshop turned to the various rondalla instruments.
These flatback, plucked string instruments are tuned in fourths. Each instrument was demonstrated, going from the highest to the lowest, the bandurria (actually the piccolo bandurria, but that was not available), the laud, octavina, the guitar, and the bajo de uZas. The laud and octavina have the same range, but the shapes are different. The laud looks like a lute, and the octavina, a guitar. The five-string guitar died out, except for the cinco-cinco from the Cagayan Valley, but that instrument was neither demonstrated live, nor heard on a recording. In Southern California, the plucked orchestral double bass or the Mexican guitarron had served as the rondalla bass for many years, hence it was delightful that an actual bajo de uZas, sometimes performed like a cello, and at others like a guitar, was present. Other instruments of the Christian Lowlands were briefly mentioned, with recorded examples but no live demonstration. These are mostly limited to certain provinces or towns, and include harps, banjos, harmonicas, drums, and clarinets.
The next video through live demonstrations introduces Moslem instruments from Mindanao and the Sulu Islands, and through recorded examples compares ensembles among the various societies. The basic group consists of the drum, the kulintang (gong chime), the small gong babandir, and two agungs: low and middle. The Magindanao and Maranao use the dabakan, but the Tausug, the gandang. These drums are performed not with the end of a stick, but with most of it lying flat on the skin. The Magindanao have four pitched gongs, gandingan, acting as a simple often repetitive countermelody to the kulintang. The Yakan and Tausug have three kinds of gabbang xylophone. Bamboo, the most common, was demonstrated. Wood is less typical, and metal is rare. Typically, the gabbang’s pitches form an isotonic heptatonic scale, common to mainland Southeast Asia. A smaller specimen, also demonstrated, contains five keys tuned to a pentatonic mode, and places on both sides to beat a rhythm. Rice farmers use a series of bamboo rungs hung diagonally (tungatong). Three other instruments were demonstrated through only recorded examples: the plucked string instrument kudyapi, a set of two hanging gongs that sound like pots, and the bowed-string byula borrowed from the Portuguese.
Trimillos often commented on the occasions the instruments were performed; for example, the gabbang accompanying all-night epics, and the kulintang with dancer on a small boat heading to a wedding. Symbolism is typical, especially that of father and son applied respectively to the lower and upper range.
During a long question/answer session, the gabbang was examined further, as well as the teaching of kulintang. The keys are not fastened to the frame, and the latter can be easily disassembled. Only an expert can tune the instrument, through shaving certain parts of each key. The gabbang can be tuned only a few times. Kulintang masters, and many other teachers of Philippine oral tradition, see notation as a distraction, and those who employ it as too powerful. Regardless, the pitches of the kulintang were recently numbered, 1 being the lowest gong, and 8 the highest. The session ended with a discussion on how the gabbang and rondalla instruments are handled shortly before performances in cold, dry climates. The xylophone keys are wrapped in damp cloth, while the plucked strings need to sit in a room for at least an hour.
This video has an additional problem. Although placed so close to the blackboard that one can see the terms being written down, the camera was too near to Dr. Trimillos. His voice is distorted, and all his sighs and small vocal sounds are heard shortly before he began to comment.
Several minutes of a dance rehearsal end the video. The participants were learning Pantomina in Ackerman’s Grand Ballroom.
The third and fourth workshops focus on the kulintang. This will be discussed in the next issue of EAR.
The next workshops focus on the rondalla with Ricardo Trimillos and the Los Angeles Rondalla Club, then on indigenous non-Moslem peoples outside Luzon (Lumad) with Orlando Ocampo. Much of what Dr. Trimillos said about rondalla during the Philippine Music Overview was restated in the introduction. He said with certainty that the term derives from rondar, meaning to circulate, because many Spanish dances incorporated this movement. Actually the origin of the word has not been determined. Nitoy Gonzales believed that early rondalla members were guards, hence “ronda alla,” meaning “A guard is there.” In Spain, especially around Madrid, rondalla members were often lazy students, hence the ensemble was called estudiante. He referred to similar ensembles in Mexico, Argentina, Puerto Rico and Colombia. The rondalla is still known by the older name, comparsa, in Cebu. It is usually limited to plucked string instruments, except for in Ilocos, where the violin is added, and several twentieth century groups that included percussion.
Most of the workshop consisted of the Los Angeles Rondalla Club performing a given music genre, which was then examined. Regarding the first piece performed, Serenata de amor, Trimillos mentioned that a modulation to the parallel major was easier for plucked string instruments than one to the relative major, because the tonic pitch remains the same. The ensemble performed a march, Collectivista, then a waltz, Estudiantina. The Schottische chosen was the Chotis from Taal (a town in Batangas). Trimillos then mentioned that although both the waltz and the schottische are triple meter, the latter has more pitches with faster values (Forgetting that most performers in the natural context cannot read music, he called these faster values “eighth notes.”), and speeds up at the end. For the habaZera genre, the HabaZera de Soltera was chosen. The performers made it clear that this genre referred to only to the middle section of what is otherwise a jota, and decided not to perform the last segment. Following this was an instrumental arrangement of a composition by Leon Ignacio, the kundiman Lambingan (playful love). Kundiman are lovesongs, mostly compositions created between the 1880s and the 1960s. A polka followed, the demanding Polka de las Bandurrias by Nitoy Gonzales, followed by a uniquely Filipino genre, the polkabal, which is also the piece’s title. Although the polkabal lies between and polka and a waltz, the music has duple meter throughout.
A question/answer session followed, with some discusion. Dr. Trimillos said that he disliked the use of the Mexican guitarron in a rondalla because the timbre produced by its round neck does not belong among the flat necks. The latter is sharp and carrying, while the former is hardly heard the second it is plucked, but the sound then grows. He also described Manila-based stores that sell rondalla instruments. A customer must be clear that he/she is buying an instrument in order to perform, rather than a poor quality specimen to hang on a wall. The musician then tests the frets in order to see whether the instrument is tuned properly, then the action, in other words, the bridge height. During the question/answer session, two more pieces were performed: the harana (serenade) O Ilaw (O Light), and Jota Cagayana.
The Lumad workshop began with a review of previous sessions. Several instruments were then shown, the Mangyan gitgit lute that had some Sanskrit carved on it, a whistle from Palawan that imitates the sound of the mother spirit, and a set of gongs hung on a triangular netting. Two gong demonstrations occurred during the workshop, one featuring two people on the gong set. The two parts sometimes arrived at a unison, but later, the lower part became a pedal point. The second demonstration involved three people playing simultaneously three kinds of rhythms, each involving a whisk of a particular size, on one gong. Because the instruments are not easily obtained, Orlando Ocampo suggested transcribing the gong music to guitar. Recorded examples of several other instruments: flutes, jew’s harps, and one that sounded like a tube, were heard. Because there was less to demonstrate, there was a lengthy question/answer and discussion about instruments throughout the Philippines. Danongan Kalinduyan took over at times, but the recording was poor. Much of what he said was not understandable, especially with recorded examples in the background. As the Lumad workshop drew to a close, drumskins were discussed. Most of them are of either goat or lizard.
by Dr. Sam Parnes
Where Classical and Contemporary Collide
Title of Recording: Baz Amadam. Persian Classical Music. Concert du Parisa au Royal Festival Hall.
Artist: Parisa
Label: Playasound, B000005G2I, 1996
Archive Number: TBD -- recording on order
Title of Recording: Egypt
Artist: Youssou N'Dour
Label: East West, B00024BHC0, 2004
Archive Number: TBD -- recording on order
by Shireen N. Heidari
Though the words “classical” and “popular” seem to designate very different genres of music, there are many related elements among the two. Often the popular music builds upon classical foundations, adopting instruments and beat styles from its predecessor. Further components of music, such as melodic patterns and tendencies towards ostinato or drone implementation can be traced to the cultural region rather than a single genre of music. Additionally, the culture of a particular region can influence all of its musical styles, especially if religion or dance has become central to societal functions. Therefore it is important not to dismiss seemingly disparate genres as unique entities; even classical music from Persia and Youssou N’Dour’s rare popular blend of Senegalese and Egyptian influences have some similarities. This review examines select tracks of the albums “Baz Amadam” by Parisa, a famous classical Persian singer, and “Egypt” by Youssou N’Dour in order to examine the features that distinguish them, and to search for their common elements.
Both Iran and Egypt are heavily influenced by Islam. Many sects of Islam dismiss the majority of music as irreligious (the exceptions being calls to prayer and the sung recitation of the Qur’an), however, the reconciliation of spirituality and music can be found in Sufism – a sect of Islam which rejects the fundamentalist notion that music must be excluded from the worship of Allah and celebrates the connection that can be made with Him through song and dance. Found in Iran and Egypt, the Sufis have dramatically changed the public opinion on the link between participation in music and spirituality. In Egypt, Sufism is linked mainly with “tarab” (ecstasy) – a spiritual emotion that brings the performers closer to God. Since Rumi, the poet and philosopher behind the Sufi movement, was Persian, his teachings also play a significant role in Persian music, and can be linked to the goal of “hal”, or mystical ecstasy. This goal applies especially to classical Persian music in the intimacy of its performance, and is thus another link between these genres.
In “Chant Accompagné au Kanoun”, the kanoun opens with a small improvised solo, and then launches into a wide-ranged pattern that moves in steps and leaps while accompanied by the tombak. Said drum plays at a quick tempo, and it seems as if the kanoun speeds up in an attempt to outdo the steady beat of the drumming. When Parisa enters after two minutes, her voice is immediately powerful and engaging. It makes the same wide leaps made by the kanoun, however it can be much more ornamented and her yodeling further accentuates her syllables. Her emphasis on the word “zood” (soon, in Farsi) betrays the powerful feelings behind her hope that the message behind her words be fulfilled. The kanoun takes a backseat to her voice, and only becomes noticeable once she stops singing. Then it continues as she sings, and adds to her vocal phrasing, eventually elaborating upon her ornamentation. Parisa sounds mournful, as though she wishes for the return about which she sings (“Ma baz amadeem” means we came back again). The changing timbre and volume of her voice serve to draw the listeners into her emotion, and betray the depth of her vocal expression.
By contrast, Youssou N’Dour’s music is explicitly religious. The first track is entitled “Allah” and the song’s main refrain translates to “Our Lord is one / One with no peer”. After the oud opens the piece, A kawala (“Egyptian oblique flute”) joins to play its own melody while a mizmar (another double-reed aerophone) drones at a lower pitch in the background. When N’Dour’s voice enters, he blends with the instruments rather than overpowering them. The same call and answer structure appears in the piece at 1:40, but it is N’Dour who echoes the melody of the flute rather than the instrument echoing the singer. Like Persian classical music, though the drumming gives the piece an underlying rhythm, the singing is not always metric. Overall, the upbeat tempo and bright tones of instruments contribute to the underlying message of the song: praise. One thing that is not lost to listeners who do not immediately understand Arabic is the incredible power and emotion that his spirituality contributes to his music. Even in much more dance-oriented tracks such as “Shukran Bamba”, the translation of the lyrics praising God illuminate how misleading the imposition of western classifications on foreign music can be.
Thus, both Parisa and N’Dour pour incredible passion into their singing, and whether their motivation is love or love of Allah, the powerful emotions behind the words transcend language barriers. Both utilize diction, articulation and the enjambment of syllables to accentuate certain syllables; while yodeling also adds to the emphasis a singer can place on his or her vocals. Even though the subject matter of Parisa’s songs is not immediately religious, the extent to which her own music moves her suggests the spirituality and emotional investment she has in her singing, and she does not fall short in her goal of reaching “hal”. N’Dour also taps into “tarab”, channeling his faith to produce a profound and mysterious sense of the divine. Especially when different languages are involved, a musician may have to rely on the instruments and the voice without words to convey the power of the message, an art that both Parisa and Youssou N’Dour have mastered. The key is in the subtle changes in voice and tonality, and the instrumentation that interacts with the vocal element.
Shireen Heidari is a junior English-premed trying to make her way in the world. She hopes to be able to continue blending her love of writing, music, and medicine in her future endeavors at UCLA and beyond.
