Music practice

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Every day this week the city has been engulfed in a wave of sticky heat. I feel exhausted after doing even the most menial things outside, and it has become very difficult to get out of bed in the morning.

This week I learned a traditional Nepali song that heralds in the Dashain season. Nepalis hear it and they feel happy and excited inside; it means that special times are on the way. I’m playing it at a higher secondary school this afternoon with a few music teachers; mid-term exams will be over, and the students will get to enjoy a special performance showcasing their teachers’ talents. Starting tomorrow school will be out for a month for Dashain and Tihar, the big festivals that make up the holiday season. The performance will be fantastic—I frantically rode my new bike over dust, rocks, and potholes every day this week, in the heat of the day, and cancelled my Nepali language classes, all so that I could get to these rehearsals. I’m playing melody and improvising on clarinet, there’s a guy playing melody and improvising on keyboard, my madal teacher is playing two madals for rhythm, and there’s a guitar player strumming chords. We play the song through three times, each with improvisations; the first time is in 7/8, second in 6/8, and third in 2/4. It’s a tough tune—it’s in my F# minor, and it uses different modes as well. I made a recording of one of our run-throughs, and I’ll try to make a recording of the performance today.

Yesterday and today I played at my sitar professor’s house; every morning he plays, and I’m always invited. Yesterday’s practice was cut short by an imposing Western classical music teacher from Russia; she came to see the professor about booking him for a sitar concert at the Russian Culture Center. This was only the lead-in, however, and the three of us commenced to have a long conversation about classical music education, she of the opinion the Western classical music is the only kind of music, and that you can’t call yourself a musician unless you know it, and the professor and myself arguing that Nepali music and Eastern classical music are just as valid, and that Eastern classical music particularly has a long history, tradition, and pedagogical and theoretical systems. The conversation wasn’t all antagonistic, though, and we agreed on many points relating to what’s needed for quality music teaching and student motivation. We also all agree that in this time of global communication and sharing it’s important for Nepali musicians along with musicians from all over the world to be familiar with Western classical music. I got the impression that she has made it her crusade to bring this kind of music to Nepali students. At the end of the conversation she insisted that the professor visit her studio, that she give a workshop at the professor’s college, that I teach clarinet to a young Russian boy at the embassy, and that I accompany her on a Dvorak duet—she singing with myself on clarinet. We’ll see what actually happens.

This morning the practice session was much more music-performance focused. We (the professor, myself, and one of his sitar students) practiced the D major scale (my E major) and various permutations for 30 minutes, then played some slow imitation patterns in a raag scale, useful for alap (the slow, un-timed first part of a raga performance, similar to a Western prelude). After this, we learned a composed musical phrase that serves as the base idea for a raga; in performance this is played in the beginning and variously throughout, with improvisations stemming from this idea. We then played some faster, metered improvisations—the professor played for 12-16 counts, then we students would imitate his musical mood and ideas for our own improvisations. This steadily got faster, longer, and more complex. After maybe 45 minutes of this, we took a small break, refreshed ourselves on the base idea with another 2 minutes of repetition, and then we finished playing for the morning. I hope to continue practicing in this way for the next 9 months, and with it build a performer’s understanding of Nepali Eastern classical music.

In non-musical news, this past Monday I bought a bicycle. It’s a one-speeder from India, heavy, solid steel frame, and I paid way too much for it according to every Nepali who’s asked. Kathmandu is fairly flat, so I can get most places without much problem. Cars here respect bikers a little more than they respect pedestrians. Unfortunately, however, on my maiden voyage east to Swoyambhu (the monkey temple) my back tire was completely sliced open, ruining both the tube and the tire. It cost me 400 rupees to replace, and that price was negotiated by a Nepali. I haven’t had any problems since, unless you count blisters on my hands from new handlebars and a sore rear from a hard seat and bumpy streets. I’ve also now fully integrated into the left-side drive system.

On Tuesday night I went with my madal teacher to a wedding reception. It was in an open event room with four long lines of chairs alternately facing each other. I didn’t know many people there, but I sat down and chatted with those around me. Every 3 minutes or so a guy would come around with a plate of snack foods to graze on; I had fried buff momos, marinated grilled buff triangles, french fries, these deep-fried bread triangles that were described to me as ‘a fusion of meat and bread’ that had a small hint of french toast taste, and shrimp flavored chips. Sometimes the guys would bring drinks: there were different kinds of sodas and whiskey—the whisky filling half of a standard-sized glass. I snacked and talked for over an hour, and then when I was completely full it was time for dinner. It was catered in the usual way—the big metal trays with hinged lids and heaters underneath. I could eat rice, naan bread, a spicy bean stew, saag (steamed greens), and assorted meat chunks for dinner, and then a sweet yogurt with a sticky syrupy extremely sweet bread ball for dessert. The wedding was between school teachers, and while I was there I met and spoke with the school principal for a time. It wasn’t really the atmosphere to interview him for my project, but he’s agreed to talk with me about it in the future.

In a frustrating turn of events my voltage stabilizer and electricity converter broke. My roommate and I had our wireless internet router plugged into it, so until we get a new one or get it fixed we have to alternate on the landline. This isn’t so easy—the ISP only gave us two MAC addresses, and the router needs one of them, so unless we call the company and have them change the address only one of our computers will work on the line at a time.

Dashain is here, and the important days of the festival are very soon. I’ve been invited to every one of my Nepali friends’ houses to celebrate, and I’m now faced with a difficult decision. At the moment I’m leaning toward celebrating with my sitar professor. I’ll let you know how it goes.

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