Gordon Lightfoot’s Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald tune was from an Irish dirge

Yesterday, on Beltane, Gordon Lightfoot died. When I was writing an blogpost about Bobby Sand’s songs Back Home in Derry, I took a lot of flack for saying that he did not steal or copy Gordon Lightfoot’s melody, Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, because that old Irish tune already existed. Bobby Sands was in solitary confinement during the time he wrote that song, he would not have had access to Gordon Lightfoot’s ballad, but he certainly would have been familiar with the County Clare slide, most often used as a fiddle tune jig, The Road to Lisdoonvarna.

In several recent articles, I found that Lightfoot had acknowledged his use of the Irish tune. “I already had a melody in my mind and it was from an old Irish dirge that I heard when I was about three and a half years old.” Why couldn’t I find that information back in 2013 when I was writing the Bobby Sands story?

Finally, I found a quote from Gordon that supports my theory. I wish I had found this quote when I was writing my blog post, Old Tunes, New Licks. It would’ve saved me a lot of grief. I wrote:

The melody of Canadian folksinger Gordon Lightfoot's The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, recorded in December 1975, seems to suggest a similar pattern. What came first, Lightfoot's melody of The Wreck of the Edmund FG, or the Irish melody associated with Bobby Sands' Back Home in Derry?
I think what happened is that the melody itself (not Gordon's fabulous song lyrics) was based on an older Irish dirge—after all the ship had an Irish name, Fitzgerald, so an Irish melody was fitting. Also, many Canadian folksongs are from the Irish and Scottish folksong repetoire.
During the 1960s and 70s folksingers were raiding traditional music wholesale—Irish music was the hardest hit—most North American singer-songwriters did not credit their sources. At least two of my folk heroes Judy Collins and Joan Baez noted their folksongs as "traditional," but as Behan noted, Bob Dylan was among the most arrogant of songthieves.

The Lightfoot obituary went on to say: 

“The biggest came in 1976 after he [Lightfoot] read an article in Newsweek about the the sinking of the bulk carrier SS Edmund Fitzgerald on Lake Superior on November 10, 1975. He called the epic maritime disaster song, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.”

“It was quite an undertaking to do that. I went and bought all of the old newspapers, got everything in chronological order, and went ahead and did it because I already had a melody in my mind and it was from an old Irish dirge that I heard when I was about three and a half years old….I think it was one of the first pieces of music that registered to me as being a piece of music.” From Gordon Lightfoot, Canadian Folk-Rock Troubadour, Dead at 84 , Yahoo

After I wrote this piece, I found out from Mudcat the name of the Irish fiddle jig was The Road to Lisdoonvarna. Old melody. Full circle. Someone else said that Christy Moore set the poem to music, not Bobby Sands. Now that is ann angle I have not thought of as I understood it to be Bobby Sands’ melody as well. All the Google links suggest that Christy Moore borrowed Gordon Lightfoot’s tune. Egad! Circular file. Either way, it was an Irish tune shared across the sea. RIP Gordon Lightfoot. Safe passage.

Learning to sing at 70

My former partner was a musician with seemingly perfect pitch, his whole identity caught up in being a folksinger, which left a little room for me to sing. Though he didn’t actively discourage me from participating, he didn’t seem to want anyone to mess with his gig. 

So I became the dog's body. The roadie. I was the one who did all the background stuff from advertising, and social media, to CD design to booth and merchandise design. And I was the one who researched the music, designed the jacket, bought, burned and printed all his CD media as well. I made thousands of CDs over the course of 20 years. We sold them at Highland games for petty cash, they never fully paid for themselves. 

The problem is of course, was that folks were no longer buying CDs. They wanted to download everything—which changed our relationship to being able to make any money at all off of the music. CD Baby was a good idea whose time came and went. No one wanted to buy a business card with a code for a downloadable album.

Most Highland Games don’t pay unknown artists to perform. Neil found it was difficult to break into the game because established musicians were holding down their respective coveted stages, including Alex Beaton who was instrumental at establishing folksingers at the Highland games. But Neil was lucky in that he was hired to be an emcee at a few games. Especially for the Las Vegas Highland Games. But that fee barely covered the cost of travel across the state.

But we were valiant and determined. We began small, closer to home with the Pleasanton Games, and Arbor Day in Fremont. I enjoyed those days traveling up and down the coast to Ben Lomond, Seaside, Pomona, Costa Mesa, Preston, Arizona, and Enumclaw in Washington—even across the Mojave Desert to Las Vegas. I grew to love visiting the desert in spring. I liked being a booth wench and belonging to the Scottish culture circus of a larger roadie family we were all part of. 

Not dinky music

Someone mentioned bluegrass, and made an odd face, calling it dinky music. I was just ‘splaining to a friend, that during Béla’s Fleck’s virtual Hardly Strictly Bluegrass set, there was bluegrass, there was country, there was jazz, there was folk, soul, blues with classical overtones all rolled up and compacted into one tune. Breathtakingly complex, intricate riffs, the composition, infinitely satisfying. The sudden insight that I was watching a maestro at work. Nothing simple about it when someone’s music makes you all weepy and it gives you delicious chickenskin to boot. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, when you least expect it, music moves you the most. Pure alchemy at work. Thank you, Hardly Strictly Bluegrass for making it so.

You can watch the pre-recorded sets at the HSB channel, via ROKU or Apple TV, but Béla Fleck’s live set in China Basin was not recorded.

Weave and Mend, folksong from Daughters of Copper Woman

The Poets & Writers Townhall meeting led me on a very merry goose chase tracking down an earworm of a song I had once heard long ago that haunted me—as we were discussing how to teach during the time of Covid. As with all earworms, the song interrupted my thoughts and became a message. I finally succumbed and looked it up, and was glad I did too. I learned a lot. I love being a folksong armchair historian.

My first go-to was Mudcat, of course, I found a Mudcat thread on the song. At first I couldn’t find anything on the song because I didn’t have the right title. The Browne Sisters—the version I’m familiar with—called it Old Woman, which yielded a wild goose chase, and no lyrics. 

Now I  love the Browne Sisters, and know them well from various Highland Games, but sometimes it’s hard to glean the lyrics from their amazing harmonies. Many thanks to Shay Black who saw my query on Facebook and sent me the full lyrics. He also gave me another lead, songwriter Mary Trup. But I also discovered that Anne Cameron wrote the poem.

No one on the Mudcat thread connected the song up with the writer, Anne Cameron, or where she grew up, Nanaimo, or that she was tapping into Nootka creation stories in Daughters of Copper Woman, so this is theoretically where this song came from. 

More research is ahead for me. Note that the name is spelled Mary Troupe here. I kind of like it. Created ca. 1981. Still searching, still sleuthing. Meanwhile, I found simple acapella version here. No ads. Great graphics in this vsrsion and Janet Russell’s harp accompaniment suits this song. No ads.

Below is songwriter Mary Trup’s version as sung by Shay’s sister, Irish Senator Frances Black. Now I am officially obsessed by this song. Words by Anne Cameron, slightly rearranged but that is the way of folksongs—even newly minted ones. I can’t seem to find anything on the songwriter Mary Trup, where she’s from, or if the tune is borrowed, or based on Celtic music, but it does have a Celtic echo and lilt. It’s certainly a song and melody that grabbed me by the heart strings.

Weave and Mend

Old woman is watching, watching over you
In the darkness of the storm, she is watching
She is weaving, mending, gathering the colors
She is watching over you. 

Chorus:
So, weave and mend
Weave and mend
Gather the fragments safe
And win the sacred circle,
Sisters, weave and mend,
Weave and mend,
Oh women, weave and mend

Old woman is weaving, gathering the threads
Her bones become the loom she is weaving,
She is watching, weaving, gathering the colors
She is watching over you.

Chorus:

For years I’ve been watching, waiting for old woman
Feeling lost and so alone, I’ve been watching.
Now I find her weaving, gathe ring the colors
Now I find her in myself.

And another version on the Black Brothers Band webpage. 

(It took me a while (a year and a half) but I finally got around to recording the song for Carol Hoorn, replete with a cat who was concerned about me. Link.)

My persistence paid off, with the clues I had uncovered, eventually I found a great book review. The Wordpress blog is called Historian’s Notebook, by Faith L. Justice. Ironically I was in Naniamo during that summer of 1981. I could have met her, if only I had known. But I had to wait a half lifetime to put this story together.

The Man with the Van

I went in to Amazing Grace Music on Miracle Mile in San Anselmo for some guitar strings and a smartly dressed older woman with brassy permed hair and long red nails greeted me. She said she was minding the shop for a friend, they had their own music store in Fairfax.

We got to talking and she gave me tea and bikkies —Walker's shortbreads. Then she sat me down for a good natter, while her husband dressed in tweeds from another century, reclined in a chair reading the paper, holding his pipe reverently. 

She asked what I liked to play, I said Irish music. She was quick to tell me that she was Irish too. From the north, she said. I remember being shocked to learn she was from Northern Ireland, as our family was about as southern Irish as you can get, without falling into the Atlantic Ocean. 

I looked for horns, and found only the kindness of her blue-violet eyes, Violet Morrison was well named, I could see that she was once a beauty, with her red  hair and lacquered nails. She said she was once a cabaret singer in Belfast. I told her of my grandmother who raised me, from Bantry, and how she taught me the old Irish rebel songs.

When Violet found out that I had walked all the way from Drake High School to the store to buy strings for my precious Martin, and had no way home, she called up her son to give me a ride out to Forest Knolls as he was living in Inverness. 

I climbed into the battered white van hugging my precious guitar to my chest. I had no idea who he was, this man who was sullen and refused to speak to me the entire way home. Made me feel obliged. Like I was a real bother. I never spoke to him again. 

Later I found out it was Van Morrison. Though I very much like his music, I'm not a fan of Van the Man with the van.

Eric Rigler (photos)

I had a few minutes time off from being an unpaid booth wench for Neil O'Neill & the CelticTyger at the Costa Mesa Scotfest Games, and I listened to an awesomely stellar uilleann piper, not knowing that he was the great Eric Rigler with his Celtic world fusion band, Bad Haggis.

Eric's playing style reminded me of Paddy Keenan. He's jammed with the stellar Scottish fiddler Alasdair Fraser (Skyedance is one of my fave CDs), Rod Stewart, Josh Groban, Phil Collins, Rubén Blades, and Babs Streisand. Eric played "Amazing Grace" at Ronald Reagan's memorial service, and for Sean Connery's AFI Lifetime Achievement award. 

You've heard him play uilleann pipes and hauntingly beautiful tin whistle tunes in many television shows and movies including The Titanic, Million Dollar Baby, Road to Perdition, Braveheart, Cinderella Man, Robots, The Spy Who Shagged Me, Prince of Egypt, Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, Jewel in the Palace, and Crossing Jordan.

For a moment I sat in the presence of greatness and was transported by music.

Some backgdound on Danny Boy

The one Irish ballad our family traditionally sings at every wedding, wake and funeral, is Danny Boy. The song is guaranteed to pull on the heartstrings and choke us up if the whiskey doesn't work. 

Last time we dusted off Danny Boy and all sang it as a family was at my aunt Canice's wake, at the Druid's Hall in Nicasio. We gave her a real send-off with a piper, an impromptu ceili band with Father Sullivan, the parish priest on the penny whistle, Cormac Gannon on the uillean pipes, and bodhran, and mine own laddie, Neil O'Neill on the guitar—it was a fine June wake. 

But is the song itself authentically Irish? Or merely American stage Irish—like the nostalgic wave that produced When Irish Eyes are Smiling, composed by Ernest Ball, a popular American song composer (with Chauncey Olcott), for a romanticised musical tribute about Ernie Ball's vaudeville life in The Isle O' Dreams, in 1912, and made into a film in 1944; or How are Things in Glocomora (a fictitious village) from the 1947 Broadway musical, Finnian's Rainbow?

With tongue in cheek I offer you that Irish schmaltzer, Daniel O'Donnell:
When Irish Eyes are Smiling

Danny Boy

So, Ian Paisley, the Pope and Daniel O’Donnell are shipwrecked on a desert island with a single palm tree in the middle. Paisley looks up to the sky and shakes his fist in anger, "Lord, why have you forsaken me? You have abandoned me to be tormented for the rest of my days, what have I done to deserve this?" Meanwhile, Daniel and the Pope just sit chatting under the tree. Paisley paces round and round, occasionally stopping to shake his fist at the sky  and stubs his toe on something buried in the sand: a Colt 45 with two bullets. He picks up the gun, puts in the bullets and looks up again at the sky, "Oh my dear Lord, you have not forsaken me. How could I have ever doubted you?" He walks up to the palm tree, points the gun and shoots Daniel O’Donnell—twice.

The American connection: It turns out, that the melody used in Danny Boy is indeed from an old Irish air that was supposedly "lost," and then "rediscovered" by London barrister and lyricist Frederic Weatherly's sister-in-law (apparently he had several) in the goldmines of Colorado (what was she doing in the mines, one could ask?). 

Why did Londonderry Air (AKA "Air from County Derry" or "Derry Air" depending on the origin of your Irish roots), have to travel from Northern Ireland to the Wild and Wooly West of the New World, circulate through the goldmining camps of the 1840s and boomerang back again to the streets of London, England, in order to be united with new English words written by a London barrister and lyricist in 1910, is a bit of a mystery. Circuitous, even. 

That berobed, bewigged and bewitched barrister, Frederic Weatherly who dabbled in song on the side, borrowed the unnamed ancient Irish tune, updated with his new song lyrics to chanteuse Elsie Griffin, circa 1913, who made it one of the most popular songs in the new century. (The first record was pressed in 1915). So we tend to think of him as the author and composer of Danny Boy. But he didn't compose the melody of the song, just the lyrics. 

The story goes that the original air was collected by Miss Jane Ross (1811-1879), from a blind fiddler, Jimmy McCurry, on market day in Limavady, Northern Ireland in 1851. 

One day Jane Ross heard Jimmy playing a beautiful melody outside the Burns & Laird Shipping Office, which she had never heard before. She came over to Jimmy and asked him to play the tune over and over again until she had taken down every note. Jane thanked him and gave him a coin for his moving rendition of the tune. When she departed Jimmy rubbed it against his lips, as was his method of determining the denomination of coins, and discovered it was a florin instead of the customary penny. He set off in pursuit of Jane and when he caught up with her he told her that she had made a mistake. Jane refused to take it back and asked him to keep it as a token of her appreciation of his music. —Ulster Ancestry

She recorded the notes and sent it to musicologist and antiquarian, George Petrie, who publisied it in 1855, in the The Ancient Music of Ireland, an imprint of the Society for the Preservation and Publication of the Melodies of Ireland.

World-famous song Danny Boy is taken from a melody composed by O’Cahan bard Rory Dall O’Cahan. The original version concerns the passing of the Chief Cooey-na-Gall whose death brought an end to a long line of O’Cahan chiefs in Northern Ireland. —Wiki

Dall means blind in Irish (and Gall means foreigner). We've not one, but two blind musicians shoehorned  in on the tale: the composer, a harper, from the Middle Ages, and an itinerant street musician, Jimmy McCurry, a fiddler from the Edwardian era.

For the following beautiful air I have to express my very grateful acknowledgement to Miss J Ross of Newtown Limavady in the County of Londonderry - a lady who has made a large collection of the popular unpublished melodies of that county, which she has very kindly placed at my disposal, and which has added very considerably to the stock of tunes which I had previously acquired from that still very Irish county. I say still very Irish; for though it has been planted for more than two centuries by English and Scottish settlers, the old Irish race still forms the great majority of its peasant inhabitants; and there are few, if any, counties in which, with less foreign admixture, the ancient melodies of the country have been so extensively preserved. The name of the tune unfortunately was not ascertained by Miss Ross, who sent it to me with the simple remark that it was "very old", in the correctness of which statement I have no hesitation in expressing my perfect concurrence. —Ulster Ancestry

One hundred years ago, Freddy Wetherby first sang Danny Boy on the radio (it wasn't successful), and published a version in 1913.

In the 1890s, Irish scholar, Osborn Ó hAimheirgin, who taught at Trinity College, wrote lyrics to the tune.

Maidin i mBéarra

Is é mo chaoi gan mise maidin aerach,
Amuigh i mBéarra i m' sheasamh ar an dtrá,
Is guth na n-éan 'o m' tharraing thar na sléibhte cois na farraige,
Go Céim an Aitinn mar a mbíonn mo ghrá.
Is obann aoibhinn aiteasach do léimfinn,
Do rífinn saor ó ana-bhroid an tláis,
Do thabharfainn droim le scamallaibh an tsaoil seo,
Dá bhfaighinn mo léirdhóthain d'amharc ar mo chaoimhshearc bán.

Is é mo dhíth bheith ceangailte go faonlag,
Is neart mo chléibh dá thachtadh anseo sa tsráid,
An fhad tá réim na habhann agus gaoth glan na farraige
Ag glaoch is ar gairm ar an gcroí seo i m' lár.
Is milis briomhar leathanbhog an t-aer ann,
Is gile ón ngréin go fairsing ar an mbán,
Is ochón, a ríbhean bhanúil na gcraobhfholt,
Gan sinne araon i measc an aitinn mar do bhímis tráth!

Source: Abair Amhrán, Comhaltas Uladh, Béil Feirste, 1969 —The Danny Boy Trivia Collection

For further reading:
The Danny Boy Trivia Collection—a lot of it's spurious information (it is a collection), but well worth a look. See Fred Weatherley's own description of how he came to write Danny Boy. Though it's possible that Weatherly wrote at least 3000 songs in his lifetime (that's the equivalent of a song a week), one suspects that not all the tunes were his original melodies or compositions. Or maybe the litigation business was slow.)

mudcat.org: Lyr Req: Danny Boy in Gaelic

Danny Boy?

The words to O'Cathain Lament may be as follows: Unfortunately no clear evidence supports this.

A chief far famed for liberal affluence,
For wise discretion and conducting sense,
Whom sages honour and learned commend,
The minstrels' patron, and the clergy's friend.

In his sad bower and damsel bands are pale,
And weep their chieftain and unwearied wail,
With lamentation oft renewed they mourn,
And know no joy, but hope for his return.

When Croghan's fate in battles fearful scale,
Hung trembling yet and their fair dames looked pale,
His arm rolled back the battle from afar,
Chief of valiant - Ulster's leading star.

With jewelled wealth and gay magnificence,
Whose bounteous tables heaped with princely hand,
Diffused a grateful odour o'er the land,
There met the brave, there came the poorest distrest,
And there the minstrel was an honoured guest.
O'Kane the brave, the generous to dispose,
Wealth to his friends - destruction to his foes,
Sword, fire and plunder followed where he trod,
And peace and mercy vanished at his nod.

The present day Lyrics to Danny Boy were written by an English lawyer, Frederic Edward Weatherly, in 1910. His version was unsuccessful, until his sister-in-law (in the United States), sent him the melody to the Air from County LondonDerry. The melody matched nicely with his words and became an instant success, especially in the United States. —Brian O'Cathain

 This blogpost was hoodwinked and expanded from a longer blog I wrote called Old Tunes, New Licks.

From time to time I try to clean up the formatting on these old posts, no dice.

AmieStreet fanmail from John & Claire Roche of Celtic Ways for my review

Re: Celtic genre, Claire Roche
From: clairseach

Maureen, so many thanks for your dedication that has given birth to a Celtic genre its own recognition. Its not a genre that easy to define, but its very handy for placing Claire's music work.

I am John of Celtic Ways, Claire's partner and I tend to look after all of her online presence. One one side Claire is not comfortable with this and on the other she has a lot of work on with new recordings, sorting out tours etc. so she really does not have the time for this. Having said that, Claire also does an incredible amount of correspondence and phone work with folks coming on Celtic Ways tours so we work well together and enjoy this.

Claire is currently on about 50 different digital download sites and it now creating a better income from this than with cds. Its all quite essential right now as the cost of recording her current cd, in the works, is a bit of a challenge. 

Out of all these, we do like the Aime St. set up best of all. Asap we'll get into the spirit of being fans, well at least I will as there is some incredible music here. Nice to see Roy Gullane here for one, terrific Celtic songwriter. Been around a long time. 

Yes, I'll discover more on this site and definately get into a blog habit here. Such a choice of networks now as I try to keep up on MySpace, YouTube, NowPublic, Facebook and Eventful too. 

One thing I would like to see is Amie St. having a video service too. Maybe they have one and I have not found it yet. Soundclick have a nice video service, but I just have not got around to that one yet. Our loyalty is more for Amie Street at this stage.

I was led here, initially, by Two Tall Women from Canada, folks I have enjoyed for, must be, almost 10 years now. We met through the old original Mp3.com .

So thanks again for opening these doors Mo.

Wishing you the best in love and blessings through this Yule, Christmas and beyond. 

John for Claire it's 1250

Kate Wolf fragment

I go every year to the Kate Wolf Festival (except for this year).

I knew Kate from afar. She lived in Forest Knolls where I grew up. Kate Wolf spent a very short time in the San Geronimo Valley, I remember her sleeping in the back of her white Ford Falcon station wagon in Forest Knolls.  (Or was it a Rambler? More fitting a car for her.)

She, like so many other musicians landed in the Valley. But despite folk memory, Kate didn't live in Forest Knolls very long. She moved to Forest Knolls in the spring of 1982, but she left by September 1984, on the road. Gathering fame at last.

Then she moved to the Russian River, as did I, and I (cub reporter) took photos of her at the River Theater for a newspaper, The Paper...or was it the Sonoma County Stump?

I had a love-hate relationship with her music. I hated how she didn't have any energy when she performed. She was like a statue. She was flat. Not her notes. But there was no edge there. It made me feel lethargic, and a little depressed. I wanted to speed her up, to animate her. I chalked it up to depression. I wrote a less-than-flattering review of her performance at the Guerneville theater. It was before we found out about the leukemia.

She was living in Guerneville before she died. I wrote another story on her ca. 1985 when we were throwing benefits to help defray her huge hospital bills. The story is lost, in the flood. She died in December of 86. I have grainy photos of her somewhere. It was a long time ago.

When I went to the USSR in 1989, I taught the Soviets to sing her songs: Golden Rolling Hills of California....and the Redtail Hawk writes songs across the sky....

2007    rev (sort of) 2014. Still needs work. But it's a start.

Intro to Folklore, Dundes, Medieval Welsh Language & Lit., Kla

Medieval Welsh Language & Literature; 
Prof. Kathryn Klar   (audited)
FALL 2001: Celtic Studies146A (4 units), 

A selection of medieval Welsh prose and poetry from medieval Welsh manuscripts: Culhwch and Olwen, the earliest Arthurian tale in any vernacular language, and Aneirin?s Gododdin, which has the earliest reference in the vernacular to King Arthur.  ther texts will include the Mabinogi and poems, The Gododdin (Canu Aneirin).Texts will be read, all or in part, in Middle Welsh; for those works read in extracts, translations of the entire work will be available. In-class translations will normally form part of each class and a reader will be made available. Grading based upon class participation, and final paper.

TEXTS:

Dafydd ap Gwilym

Owein, Chwedyl Iarlles Y Ffynnawn

Bran

Pwyll Pendeuic Dyuet

Manawydan uab Llyr,(White Book, Rhydderch) Patrick Ford

Lear and His daughters (Red Book of Hergest), Strachan

Cyfranc Lludd a Llevelys, Ifor Williams

Intro to Early Welsh, Strachan

For some reason, I didn't do so well in the class. The events of 9/11 made me ADD; I don't even remember doing a paper.

            ...............................................

Intro to Folklore

Prof Alan Dundes  
FALL 2001: ANTHRO 160A  (4 units),
(Cross-registered, SFSU, grade A)

TEXTS:

The Study of American Folklore, Harold Brunvand

International Folkloristics, ed. Alan Dundes

Folklore Matters, Alan Dundes

Holy Writ as Oral Lit, Alan Dundes

The Study of Folklore, Alan Dundes

Life is Like a Chicken Coop Ladder, Alan Dundes,

Plus reader, reserved readings.
I collected and annotated over 60 pieces of folklore from informants in Portugal, Ireland, and California. They are in this blog and also in the Folklore Archives, Kroeber Hall, where Ishi once lived. I loved this class, I never wanted it to end. I am grateful for the time I got to spend with Alan; Neil was a special pet of Alan's, so we spent many an hour jawing  in Alan's office. Neil called him Papa Dundes. Alan's heart was big as the world.  WWDS has become my motto.

If I hadn't gone to Portugal right after 9/11, chances would be pretty good I would've dropped out of school. I was a bad state, no focus, no stamina, etc. So maybe this class saved me.

I eventually plan to transcribe my class notes, so this is a placeholder. A reminder. —MH 11/2015

Andean Music: Chaskinakuy

Chaskinakuy

In the Incan Quechua tongue, the word chaskinakuy (chas-keeNA-kwee) means "to receive from hand to hand among many people." Sonoma County musicians Edmond Badoux and Francy Vidal of of the Andean music ensemble, Chaskinakuy, founded in 1985, continue the tradition of interpreting and sharing the roots of Andean music—from Ecuador to Argentina— with attentive audiences. The sold-out performance at the Cinnabar Theatre on Jan 21st, is an indication of the popularity of this dynamic duo. 

Edmond Badoux, who hails from the Swiss Alps, moved to Canada where he met Andean musicians. Baxoux was a founding director of the internationally acclaimed Andean group, Sukay (open the earth for planting), they settled in San Francisco in 1975, but Badoux left the group in 1985 to do research and founded Chaskinakuy. 

I've listened Sukay on many a street corner—they were my first introduction to the nueva canción style of Andean music. (Simon & Garfunkel's iconic El Cóndor Pasa is in the nueva canción style). Badoux makes most of the instruments we see on stage. And there are a lot of them. Vidal and Badoux typically play 30 to 40 instruments during their set. 

Both Badoux and Vidal have traveled extensively throughout Latin America, collecting music and instruments—made of reeds, feathers, horns, hooves, bone, and clay. Badoux traveled extensively in South America for over a year, collecting and recording Andean music, "literally receiving it from hand to hand and heart to heart," says Vidal. 

Vidal said, "imagine you're on the road to Otavalo." That was easy. I'd just returned from the Andean town where eucalyptus forests flanked the slopes of the Andes, and Vulcán Chimborazu punctured holes in the equatorial sky. 

The other half of the Chaskinakuy duo, Francy Vidal explains that the musical instruments covering the stage are mostly wind instruments. Vidal is an eighth-generation Californio from Sacramento, by way of Mexico and the Old World. Vidal first became interested in music when her mother played the organ for the Mexican church. 

Ironically because tourists expect to hear El Cóndor Pasa, Andean musicians everywhere have learned to play the song. Francie sang songs in Spanish, "I come from the puna. In my saddlebags I bring hopes, dreams and sorrow," and in Quechua, she sang a tinku, or planting song, "...Come on little brother, it's time to get up./ The golden sun is rising." 

Tinku is a ritualistic warlike form of extreme combat dance (or brawl) both in praise of Pachamama, the World Mother, and a denouncement against the conquistadors who made them slaves. In both cases, blood sacrifice is involved. 

Vidal used the downtime between songs, as they swapped instruments, to educate the audience. The most common Andean instruments are the double-row cane panpipes, and drums ceremonially used for the agricultural calendar—planting and harvesting of potatoes, amaranth, maize and coca. 

The traditional Andean panpipes, the zampoña, or sikú—from the tiny chuli to the monster toyo—are divided into two instruments sharing one harmonic scale. To play music on these panpipes requires two people being of one mind, one breath, to coordinate the melody. Vidal and Badoux take turns demonstrating a scale. One half of the panpipe duality (or moiety) is called the ira, and the other, the arka (both male and female—or Pachatata and Pachamama). The complexity of these pipes adds a whole new level meaning to make sweet music together. 

Vidal held up what looked like wayward pipes from a disemboweled church organ. The toyo (or jach'a in Aymara) the largest panpipes in the world, are five feet tall, and contain every note (A-G). Some toyo are even bigger—up to six feet tall.

Before the arrival of Europeans, the indigenous panpipes, dating back 5000 years, were tuned to a pentatonic scale. The pipes have a deep resonating sound like Pachamama, the earth breathing, the Andean air alive with electricity and howling winds—or like insects buzzing in the jungle. 

The panpipes, divided in two parts, require two musical partners to play a scale or a melody. While one musician breathes, the other plays—to a stereo effect. The word conspiracy means to breathe together. At high altitudes. it requires a conspiracy of musicians to properly play the panpipes. What's amazing about these pipes, aside from the sheer size, is that they're typically played at altitudes of 9,000 to 14,000 feet-—more than two miles above sea level. Talk about playing in thin air and breathing together. 

We learn practical applications as well. "If your panpipe gets out of tune," adds Badoux, who makes many of the pipes, "you can drop ball bearings or lentils in the pipes to tune it—but you can only sharpen it." 

Vidal, a flautist by training, explains that the quena (kena), or the seven-holed notched flute, has at least a 3,000-year tradition and is made from bamboo, reed, flamingo legs, or even human thigh bones. The smallest, the pinquillo, or kamacheña is an annoying mosquito-pitched 3-note flute. Not recommended after a bout at the chicha bar. 

Ocariñas, are globe-shaped hunting flutes with four to six (or more) holes, often made of ceramics, in the form of flat faces, turtles, and birds. "Traditionally, women weren't allowed to play the flute but that attitude has changed since the 60's," said Vidal. 

Unusual traditional Andean musical instruments include an antara—a single row panpipe, or sikú panpipes made from the quills of turkey vulture wing feathers. In Peru and Bolivia these panpipes are made from the larger quills of condor feathers. I heard one being played on Lake Titicaca. Shrill and mesmerizing. 

Perhaps the most odd instrument was the clarin, or cana, a ten-foot long bamboo French type horn with all the kinks removed which sounded more like a trumpeting mastodon, than a horn. Cow horns (bocinas) and conch shells are also used. 

Vidal explained the European influence, musica criolla, brought to the Andes the sound of stringed instruments which all lend their charm to the native Andean tunes. The guitarra, the mandolina, the charango—the ubiquitous armadillo soundbox mandolin, and la arpa— the Irish harp—played upside down! 

Several percussion instruments include rain sticks, a goatskin drum and chullus made of hooves. "The rattle made of goat hooves was very expensive by Andean standards," explains Vidal to the audience, "a whole herd of goats went into the making of that rattle." Like a herd of castanets. Vidal and Badoux's performance is educationally entertaining and uplifting as the Andes themselves. 

Badoux & Vidal are celebrating the release of their first cassette, Chaskinakuy: Music of the Andes. The cassette features traditional instrumental Andean music played on native panpipes, flutes, drums and strings. The cassette, available at the concert, was recorded locally at Joe Hoffman Studios, Occidental. Or you can order a tape directly from Chaskinakuy, PO Box 943, Penngrove, CA 94951. The duo also teaches music classes in Penngrove and perform in the schools as well. Chaskinakuy will be at Guerneville Community Church, Fri. Feb. 3rd (1988) at 8 pm. Tickets are $6 at the door. 

Lest you think this review is no longer relevant, the out of print Music of the Andes is soon to be released on CD. Visit Chaskinakuy's website to pre-order it, or pick up one of their other CDs Cosecha, or Flor de Tierra there, or at CD Baby. 

Chaskinakuy's 2014 address is PO Box 11421, Santa Rosa, CA 95406. If you want to book them for an event, or a school assembly, contact Francie at Bookings@chaskinakuy.com

The Paper, Jan. 1988, there were photos too. Alas, no tear sheet.
rev. Feb. 27, 2014