Vọng cổ (literally "longing for the past") is a Vietnamese song and musical structure used primarily in the cai loung theater music and chamber music of southern Vietnam. It was composed sometime between 1917 and 1919 by a Mr. Cao Van Lau (also called Sáu Lầu or Sáu Làu), of Bac Lieu , a province in Southern Vietnam . The song achieved great popularity and eventually its structure became the basis for numerous other songs. The tune is essentially melancholy in character and is sung using Vietnamese modal inflections.
Ghanaian musician Okaidja Afroso stopped into the Traders to show us how to play the Asalato (aka Bakita, or Thelevi). Okaidja is a first call drummer, dancer, and singer among his Ghanaian peers and many others. Here's a behind-the-scenes peek into Ghanaian rhythm.....
The Kosika (also known as Kashaka, Patica, Asalato, Kes Kes, Tchangot Tche or many other names) is a simple Ghanaian percussion instrument consisting of two small gourds filled with beans (essentially, two small kinds of maracas) and connected by a string. One gourd is held in the hand and the other is swung from side-to-side around the hand, creating a "clack" upon impact. Kosika can consist of gourds or high-impact plastic filled with hard plastic beads.
The Kosikas are said to improve one's sense of rhythm, ambidexterity and eye-hand coordination, as playing the Kosika is essentially a form of juggling. Kosikas are also thought to relax, stretch and strengthen the wrists, forearms and shoulders, and can be seen as a tension-release activity, and they are the more versatile shaker percussion instruments. ( Wikipedia )
When the young Stella Chiweshe decided to become a m'bira player, there was major consternation from all of those around her. She says the women were as opposed to the idea as the men. As m'bira playing was entirely within the male domain, Chiweshe spent a lot of her time surrounded by men, which led the women in her village to look on her as being "loose," as she states herself. "Men played m'bira, and for me to play m'bira meant that I had to sit with men on either side of me. It made the women very uncomfortable." But, without reservation, Chiweshe remains steadfast that what she went through, her pioneering force at that time, has made her stronger throughout the other areas in her life. Certainly she broke significant new ground for the likes of Virginia Mukwesha (her daughter), Chiwoniso (daughter of celebrated m'bira player, the late Dumisani Maraire) and the countless other female musicians in Zimbabwe today who juggle the burden of the traditional female role in society with the need to perform and be heard
The combination of m'bira and marimba might seem relatively obvious nowadays, but Chiweshe is often credited as the first artist to actually bring the two together. She said she had been searching for a sound that had been evading her since her very first recording back in 1974. She knew what she wanted to hear but couldn't quite grasp how to make this particular sound happen. After almost ten years it clicked, and she now uses two marimbas to recreate the sound of one m'bira, similar to Mapfumo's idea of reconstructing the m'bira sound on guitar. Talking M'bira contains two outstanding examples of this, Chachimurenga and "Manja." But why is it that everything she does harps back to the fundamental sound of the m'bira, and what is the universal appeal of that sound? Chiweshe firmly believes that the gentle m'bira timbre is "closely related to the sound of water, something that is innately familiar to all people, and therefore the m'bira is instantly memorable and comforting. It is a total form of therapy in itself." But it is the power of the spirit of the m'bira that is most vital to Chiweshe, the power to override all the worries of this world and render them inconsequential by comparison, whether one is open to the idea or not. In the liner notes to Talking M'bira, Chiweshe tells touching stories of individuals who have come across the sound of m'bira and suddenly lost the physical pain which has accompanied their lives, and of audience members who have been moved to tears which they feel are not even their own, tears experienced by them but coming from another source within. "People do not truly understand the strength of this power. It can take you completely by surprise." She says this is why people involved in the traditional bira ceremony remove their shoes, in order to let the full extent of the spirit move them with absolute freedom, devoid of inhibition.
Doris stands hardly on the brake. A fox mother crosses the street with her two young. We are off to Toggenburg. A valley in the northeast of Switzerland. Today is an important day for family Ammann. At around 3 o’clock in the morning we arrive the farm. The whole family sits eagerly at the breakfast table.
Every springtime the alpine farmers ascend to the higher alp with their animals. The meadows of the valley are grazed. On the alp lush meadows are waiting for the cows. The quality of the milk is better because they eat mountain herbs. That’s the reason why the taste of the alpine cheese is different.
The ascent up the Alps is celebrated according to old traditions. The farmers dress themselves in Sunday-dress. The three nicest cows wear the “Gschell”. These three bells are tonally compatible. An other important thing is the “Zäuerle” or “Jodeln”. It is a kind of alpine chant without words.
After the caravan has left the street steep serpentines lead up to the hill. From time to time the farmers get some drinks at the wayside. After a few gulps and a short talk they continue to walk quickly.
While the ascent up the Alps you realize the value of the family. The kids don’t have to go to the school. Everyone of the family helps. In the mountain chalet all sit together comfortably and eat bread, cheese and sausage. The first cow gets milked to have milk for the coffee. After this eventful day silence comes and the the hard daily work begins. ( more )
