MusicTibet.com
News :: 2003
The Tenor of Tibet
Robust folk, hypnotic chants and an exotic symphony of indigenous wind and percussion — Tibet's music is a balm for a community in exile. It's also a big hit globally. Manraj Grewal tunes in.
It's the house of melody. The kind that transports you into another world. Of rugged mountains, rolling grasslands and gurgling streams. Tucked away in the lap of a scented pine forest with the majestic Dhauladhars standing guard, the Tibetan Institute of Performing Arts (TIPA) has been quietly making music ever since its birth a year after His Holiness the Dalai Lama set foot in Dharamsala in ’59.
"It's one of the first projects set up by His Holiness to promote Tibetan art and culture," says director Kelsang Youdon, quick to tell you how its music is slowly casting a spell on the world. The know-all Net will vouch for it: scroll it for New Age music, and chances are you will find a smattering of Tibetan names, mostly of TIPA vintage. "They've either studied here or have been trained by its alumni," says Tenam, editor of Tibetan Bulletin, who's keyed in to the annual Tibet freedom concert started by the Beastie Boys in ’96, which now attracts biggies like U2, Bjork and Alanis Morissette. The concert has done a lot to popularise Tibetan musicians, especially TIPA's own band Akama, which was tapped by Chris Hinze, the world-reknowned flautist and composer for his album Tibet Impressions.
That explains the gleam in the eyes of Lobsang Samten, the artistic director of TIPA, the moment you mention celebrity pupils. "Oh, there are loads of them," he beams, trumpeting out a long-winded honour's list. But strangely, the ones who've charmed Fame are either with Uncle Sam or Down Under. Take the case of Ngawang Khechog, a Grammy nominee for his album A Distant Place. This much-in-demand musician, who composed the score for the Hollywood flick Seven Years in Tibet, mastered symphony during his 11-year-long sojourn as a monk at Mcleod Ganj in Himachal Pradesh.
"Those were heady days," says the virtuoso, who now lives at Boulder in the lap of the Rockies, remembering his long spells of meditation in the mountains with only his flute for company.
Just rifle through the stacks of cassettes and CDs omnipresent in the cramped market place at Mcleod Ganj and you will find more names — Jamyang Choeden, Techung, Namgyal Lhamo and Yungchen Lhamo — all with the recording rights firmly overseas. The quaint hill town thrums with the sounds of Tibet thanks to bands and solo musicians. Take a walk down Bhagsu Road and your nose will lead you to JJI Exile café selling scrumptious cakes: it's owned by JJI Exile Brothers, the band which gets the youngsters rocking. A little further at Pema Thang Guest House, its beautiful owner Choekyi is working on her new album. Visit TIPA and you are sure to run into the intense Gonpa Dhundup, who released the first Tibetan music video Om this January. The institute also has its resident Lata Mangeshkar — the petite Passang Dolma who's released four cassettes, and is looking forward to a big hit. And you can't miss the dashing Tsering Lodoe, who composed the heady music for the maiden miss Tibet contest last year besides singing for Himalata, a film that was invited to Cannes.
"Music is woven into the fabric of our daily life," he says. So there is the robust cadence of folk songs, the hypnotic chants of monks and the exotic symphony of the indigenous wind and percussion instruments. It's also a balm for a community in exile. Be it a fusion album or a purely traditional affair, the cry for a free Tibet is the common note that runs through their songs.
"This is true of singers even in Tibet," says Tenam, telling you how the Chinese banned a song Ahku Pema (Uncle Pema) after they realized the uncle was none other than the Dalai lama.
Their songs are also very individual like their personal tragedies. Pasang Dolma, 34, lost one leg to polio after she was found abandoned by monks. "I don't know who my parents are," says the woman, whose husband left her to fend for herself and her two sons. Choekyi, who lost her mother at the age of five, grew up playing a foster mother to her siblings, but is still childless at 47. And JJI Brothers grew up without a father. "Were it not for our mother Nima la, we would have starved," chorus the brothers, who are all set to release their first album, the lead song for which has been penned by none other than the Karmapa.
But Tibetan music, in spite of its powerful brigade of fans, is yet to hit big time in India. "The recording companies are not interested in us," laments Choekyi, who gets her cassettes recorded by a Taiwanese company. Others rely on homegrown recording studios. Gompo saw his music video dream come true, thanks only to his best friend Tenzin Rigden, the official cameraman of the government-in-exile, who borrowed a digital camera for the occasion. "We also had to rustle up Rs 1 lakh from our friends," says Rigden. It's been three months, but they haven't sold even half of the 1,000 VCDs (they sent 200 free to Tibet). Now the duo has approached Channel [V].
Lobsang Wangyal, the spirit behind Miss Tibet, has other plans to cheer them up. "We'll host our own music awards on the line of Grammy's this October," grins the pony-tailed youth.
That may sound like a pipe dream, but it's music to the ears of our singers.
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