Ustuu Khuree is the name of an old Buddhist temple in the Tuvan city of Chadaana, destroyed by Communists over 50 years ago. For the past ten years, it has also been the name of a world music festival held every summer in Chadaana, which started as part of an effort to rebuild the temple. This year, Ustuu-Khuree was especially significant for a couple of reasons. Not only was it the 10 year anniversary of the festival, but this year, construction began on a new temple, across the street from the ruins of the old Ustuu Khuree.
Somewhere around 250 people came to the festival this year, a mix of Tuvans, Russians, and foreigners like me. We spent four days camping together in the woods by the Chadaana river. Except for the first day, when the opening concert was postponed for unknown reasons, there was a concert every night at the Chadaana stadium, a 5 minute walk down the road. The concerts featured up to 40-odd acts every night and would last until 3 or 4 in the morning. This was due in part to the fact that, operating on 'Tuvan time', concerts scheduled to start at 6PM wouldn't actually begin until past 8:00.
The concerts were great-- astoundingly eclectic mixes of traditional Tuvan music, traditional music from other parts of Russia, rock bands, and fusion projects galore. One of the biggest hands of the first night was for a mash-up of Johnny Cash's 'Ghost Riders in the Sky' with a traditional Tuvan folksong. The crowd favorite was probably the 20+ member 'Dukhovoi Orkestr' (woodwind orchestra), which played upbeat Tuvan songs with marching-band theatrics and choreography (and a sprinkling of Tuvan rap!). I was even more blown away, however, by two other groups-- the first being Ayirkhaan, a trio from the Republic of Sakha in Yakutia that created soundscapes using nothing but their mouths and metal mouthharps (khomus). When they were all going full-throttle, it sounded like electronica music, with unbelievable sounds flying in every direction.
My other favorite group was Xogzhumchu ('musician' in Tuvan), which was a group of stellar traditional Tuvan musicians who spiced up traditional Tuvan songs with non-traditional instrumentation. In addition to the normal Tuvan instruments (mainly igil & doshpuluur), Xogzhumchu had a guitar, electric bass, drumkit and keyboards. I think the real difference for them was that unlike some of the other fusion bands that had foreigners playing foreign instruments and Tuvans playing Tuvan instruments, this was a band of great Tuvan musicians playing their own music, but with a contemporary edge. You had People's Khoomeizhi of the Republic of Tuva (the highest honor bestowed on Tuvan throatsingers) throwing down on electric bass and guitar, and Huun-Huur-Tu's Alexei Saryglar on the drumkit.
Besides the concerts however, Ustuu-Khuree provided endless opportunities to meet people. Groups would congregate around campfires, drink tea and talk (in whatever language was most convenient). I spent most of my time at one fire, where the crowd included a pair of khomus playing girls from Novosibirsk, a singer-songwriter from Kuragino, a film student from Belgium, a Russian-Dutch translator from the Netherlands, and a crazy Tuvan lady.
The third day of the festival, I stumbled upon a violin. It's owner was Sasha, an English language teacher from the small town of Gutara. He had traded someone for the instrument but didn't know how to play it. I gave him some pointers, drank some tea, and played some music with him and his friends. He insisted that I borrow the violin for the rest of the festival, and I eagerly accepted. The next day, it let me participate in a great jam session under a tarp in the rain, with a couple of guitarists, a bass player, a drummer, a guy trying to throatsing, and a crowd of onlookers. At one point during that session I beatboxed for the guy who does the rapping in the Dukhovoi Orkestr, who plays a little guitar but is also probably the best saxophone player in Tuva.
I tried to get regular sleep as much as possible, at least until the last night. That night, thanks to an awards ceremony that lasted over an hour, the concert didn't end until at least 4:00 AM. A Polish volunteer and I were sitting together, trying to stick it out until the end of the show, but we couldn't make it through the last act (a Tibetan ritual that probably ended up lasting 50 minutes at least). We went back to the camp, where it turned out another concert was in progress. Earlier, people had built a little stage with a sound system for small performances and now anyone who wanted to could hop onstage and play a few things. Vladimir Oidupaa, who created his own style of kargyraa (low growly throatsinging) back in the 80s, played for a while, as did Sergei Pugachev, a guitarist from Krasnoyarsk whom I'd been jamming with earlier in the day. My fellow American Enrique (who'd won the 'best foreigner' award for his throatsinging) played American rock & roll, and I hopped onstage with him to sing backup on 'Back in the USSR'.
After the impromptu concert ended, the organizers announced the lighting of a bonfire as part of the closing ceremonies of the festival. This led to our local shaman getting up and delivering a long diatribe about how no one here really respected the shamanic traditions and how we were upsetting all the spirits of the forest and the river and she was going to have to fix everything after we left.
Somewhere about this time, I met a group of Tuvans who studied together in Novosibirsk but lived in Kyzyl. I was tired enough that somehow my Russian came naturally and smoothly, and we had a decent conversation and ate some stew. When they decided to catch a little sleep, I went back to my friend Imre's fire (he's a Finnish transplant in Tuva) and talked some more with him, Marco and the Russians who were sharing the fire. Around 8:30 or so, we decided to play frisbee-- the Russians had brought a disc, crazily enough. We had a game of catch for a while, which left me a little scratched and bruised from tumbles on the dusty, rocky ground. We then started back to pack up. I got my tent back in its bag, stuffed everything in my backpack, washed my face in the river, and found Mergen, the guy who drove me and a couple of other people to the festival. We left around noon and I slept all the way back to Kyzyl.
---
You eaten lunch yet? asks Rafael, an easy-going, bandanna-wearing bard from Kuragino. "No, but I was thinking about going to look for something," I reply. "Come on, then. We'll go together."
We head into town, towards the small cafeteria where festival performers eat for free. We're late for lunch-- it's already past two in the afternoon-- but Rafael smiles and the ladies in the cafeteria decide to feed us anyhow. Rafael is a rare Russian vegetarian, and I tell him I gave up on vegetarianism when I got to his country. "It's not so bad," he says, and asks the cafeteria ladies what they have without meat.
As it happens, the vegetarian option, at least for a late lunch, is sugary buns accompanied by a huge slice of frosted cake. We eat up, drink tea, and talk.
Rafael hasn't always been a bard. Until the age of 40, he painted signs. Advertisements, storefronts, a little government propaganda. But then, after his daughter left for the big city and he and his wife divorced, Rafael had an epiphany, or perhaps what we'd call a mid-life crisis. He quit painting, picked up the guitar and started writing songs. Now, he works just enough to get by, and performs his music as much as he can. "I'll be at Ustuu Khuree every year for the rest of my life," he says.
We decide to bag up the last of our buns and take them back to the camp. On the way back, we see an exhibition of photos of Tuva taken by a European photographer, and the start of the traditional 'khuresh' wrestling competition back at the stadium. It's already raining a little, however, and we stay only a little before heading back to the camp to find cover.
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