Musical Trip - Yuraq and Hillibilly

Chuna McIntyre of the Nunamta Yup’ik 

Dancers. Photo by Jim Hardin.

    Unknown Spoon Player

    I'm having some trouble getting rolling with this one.  With many of these blog posts, including for my previous art class, once I kick the keystone out from under the subject matter the post flows from me.  The wedge under the door is stubborn on this one.  It may be because of my own conflictions which I touched on in my "Alaska Native Contemporary Art" post.  I'm a half breed Yup'ik Eskimo, my mother's family is from Western Alaska.  My father's family is from North Carolina.  I'm literally the son of hillbillies and farmers, and raw meat eaters.  I'm not saying this with denigration, these are just true facts.  Pop's mother's family is from the flatland of Eastern North Carolina, hard working farmers.  His dad's people were musical moonshiners from the hills that could wring a song from laundry implements.  Pop's culture is all but lost to me due to geography, and is likely washing away in it's own locale.  And I've had little help retaining my mother's culture, despite growing up in it.  She and her family didn't make sure I could speak Yugtun growing up, and my own futile efforts at learning were...less than appreciated.  Any effort I made at learning to carve, split fish, hang and mend net, was met with "you're too young," yet they would teach my cousins at even younger ages.  Gampalli, Grandpa, was a renowned salmon fisherman, if asked to catch kings for the cannery he could catch so many that Fish and Game would close the fishery...or so I've heard, maybe it's a fish story.  Yet my greatest lessons in commercial fishing came from a white man who wasn't even family.  It's not that I missed the boat, it's more like I was left on the dock having been denied boarding.  And clearly I'm bitter about it, and these damned art and music classes are causing me to be aware of this particular stick in my craw.           

    Yuraq.  Here's a video of the pronunciation.  Yup'ik dance.  "Yup'ik dance?" you might ask.  Yes.  The singing is implied, understood, and a natural accomponant.  As far as music goes, this could easily be described as a relatively anemic form by the casual observer.  Yes, there is only one instrument used, a simple hoop drum beaten with little more than a twig.  There is no elaborate entourage to take over the chorus, nearly every one sings nearly every line, in the same note, and nearly every one does the same dance.  But if you take a moment to look closely, and listen just as close, you can see the individuality pouring from each dancer and drummer and voice that streams into this harmonious cacaphony.  Behold below, the Mt. Edgecumbe Yup'ik Dance group, circa 2015.     

    This was once decried, denounced, and disallowed as devil worship.  But how could a people devoid of Christianity be aware of let alone worship the Christian devil?  Thankfully, it made something of a resurgence, and is at the very least being maintained.  This "Seal Hunt" is sort of an odd song, most are not like this.  Typically, there's a group of drummers sequestered off to the side, a row of women standing in the back, and a row of men seated either kneeling or legs crossed.  

    This video of the Qasgirgmiut Dancers at the 2023 FNA convention is a great example.  Pick a dancer to watch, watch them for a song, then watch another.  Drummers as well.  Yes, they're singing the same song, making the same moves.  But you can see each one as their own self.  You feel like you can guess their personalities, and you'd be right often enough to be really surprised when you're not.  Some are subdued, like they move and sing in lower case print.  Others bob with each beat.  Still others manage to bob up and down at once with each sound of the drum.  They're the ones that sing in cursive.  Others move and sing in CAPSLOCK.  The best ones, and all of them to some extent as the song builds with each repetition, start in Times New Roman in all lower case, just moving their fans.  Rigid feather fans protruding from wooden rings for the men, flowing caribou hair fans sewn to grass bases for the women.  As the song builds even the tired grey old people bounce from their ankles to their grey hair, all singing in caps lock, but you can still pick the ones that somehow bob and duck at the same time.  I couldn't find it, but on occasion a special dance happens, where a particular man will be the sole dancer, standing alone, and dancing around, driven at a mercilessly increasing pace by the drummers and singers, occasionally responding with his own verse, leaping and stomping, waving to the beat. 

    My exposure to the music from the other end of the country is quite limited, and considered American, or Western, therefore won't be strongly displayed here, but it bears mentioning.  

    This video of Spoon Lady and Accomponant from North Carolina is vastly different.  The lyrics are a trip, from A to B, with a repeated chorus, where Yuraq may be a repetition of lyrics, the voyage is in the increase in tempo, intensity, and growing texture with each refrain.  

    Yuraq is particular "music."  It's not just an auditory experience.  To really appreciate it you have to be close enough to feel the growing vibrations of the drums, the wind off the fans, to see the sweat coming of Grandma's forehead as she bobs, weaves, and waves her fans to the beat.  I guess that's most music, I'd still like to see Metallica play "No Leaf Clover."  

Deloris, Rachel. “Native Dancing Ban Lifted in Alaska Village.” Tribune, San Diego Union-Tribune, 21 Feb. 2010, www.sandiegouniontribune.com/sdut-native-dancing-ban-lifted-in-alaska-village-2010feb21-story.html. 

Winick, Stephen. “Homegrown plus Premiere: Pamyua’s Modern Yup’ik Drumsongs: Folklife Today.” The Library of Congress, The Library of Congress, 1 June 2022, https://blogs.loc.gov/folklife/2022/06/homegrown-plus-premiere-pamyuas-modern-yupik-drumsongs/