This photo was taken from a Maria Tanase photoset on flickr.
You can listen to her spectacular voice in Lume, Lume above. She is almost sacred to me.
This photo was taken from a Maria Tanase photoset on flickr.
You can listen to her spectacular voice in Lume, Lume above. She is almost sacred to me.
An interview with John Vanderslice about the release of his new album, Romanian Names, fails to mention why Vanderslice chose this title for an album which he describes as very "domestic". Is Vanderslice married to a Romanian? Other ideas?
Eugen Tomiuc shares his affection for Cornel Chiriac in an article at RFE/RL:
In fact, I remember my parents' hushed whispers about the Securitate chasing and killing Chiriac-- a reminder that even in America, we were not truly safe. The power of the Securitate was ever-present in my childhood home; my bright, educated parents could not be convinced that the secret police would not somehow come and find us.
Chiriac provided a flash of light and levity in the drab spirituals dungeons of communist Romania. Rather than stick to the scripts provided by Ceausescu's regime, Chiriac played the latest rock n' roll music straight from America or the UK. He gave young people an opportunity to dream outside the context of the commutopia.
You can listen to a number of Chiriac's broadcasts here. Or you can read "Make Love Not War" by Monica Andrei. Or you can read "A Fost Odata.." by Doru Ionescu. Or you can learn why Chiriac earned the title "First Anticommunist DJ".
Whenever the tuica was plentiful in our American home, my mother would try to convince her guests to dance the hora. The only other times I had the opportunity to dance the hora in the United States involved Eastern European Jewish friends. How is it that Eastern European Jews and Romanians share a national folk dance? Why did my strolls through the Jewish kletzmer festival in Cracow, Poland evoke an incredible, dolorous homesickness?
Kletzmer remains an enduring love for me-- it brings tears of joy to my eyes. Since there are few things in life powerful enough to elicit joy, that magnificent compost of sadness, awe, and elation, it was with great delight that I read Ben Cohen's essay on Jewish music in Romania.
Cohen's experise is personal-- he is a "bessarabisher yid". His grandparents were born in Bessarabia when it was part of Romania and lived in Chisinau until the time of the 1905 pogrom. Today, Bessarabia is the Republic of Moldova, and Cohen lives in Budapest. He notes:
"Although I live in Hungary,
the majority of our music’s influences come from Romanian musicians. The
reasons are simple. Romania was crucial to the development of klezmer dance
repertoire. My ancestors came from Moldavia. I grew up eating mamaliga in New
York City. My grandparents spoke Romanian Yiddish. And Romania is one of the
few places in Europe today that can boast a rich and active traditional context
for folk music."
After discussing the four categories of Jewish music repertoire as applied by Dr. Wallter Zev Feldmen, Cohen zeroes in on the city of Iasi.
When I began to record music in Romania in the late 1980s, many of
the elder Gypsy musicians I approached in Transylvania enthusiastically played
Jewish tunes for me, alongside the Romanian and Transylvanian Hungarian music I
was asking after. I was intrigued. Where had they learned these tunes? From
playing for Jewish weddings, they answered. And so I began to learn something
of the styles and repertoire of Jewish music from the elder generation of Gypsy
musicians such as Ferenc "Arus" and Bela Berki of Mera, Samuel "Cilika" Boross
of Cluj, Bela Gaspar, Arpad Toni of Voivodeni, Vassile and Gheorghe Covaci in
Maramures, and others. I made trips through Transylvania, Bukovina, Maramures,
and Moldavia.
Eventually I had the great pleasure of meeting Prof.
Itzik Shvartz and his wonderful wife Cili in Iasi in 1991. Prof. Shvartz, born
in 1905, is a prolific writer, folklorist, linguist, and former director of the
Iasi Yiddish theater who at this writing is still living in Iasi. He has known
all of the 20th century’s important Romanian Jewish personalities as well
as many of the Jewish musicians. His wife Cili was perhaps the best living
Yiddish traditional singer in Europe until her death in 1998 (her kosher soda
cookies were absolutely the best….).
From Itzik Shvartz I
learned about the life of klezmer families in 20th century Iasi: the Bughici
family, the Segal family, and the Weiss family. The Lemesh family were
important musicians in the last century who also played in Avram
Goldfaden’s original Yiddish Theater orchestra at the Pomul Verde wine
cellar in Iasi, but that family no longer resides in Iasi – I have heard
they moved to Philadelphia.
Abraham Goldfaden, considered by many to be the "father of Yiddish theater", founded his theater troupe in Iasi, then moved to Bucharest, and then took it to the road. Nahma Sandrow recounts her trip to Pomul Verde and the heady influence of sweet Romanian wines in her article for The New York Times. Joel Berkowitz's article on Goldfaden is the best I've read on Goldfaden so far. I return the microphone to Mr. Cohen:
The
Bughici band was
primarily violin-based. Many of the Bughici family were murdered in the 1941
Iasi pogrom, but several survived, including Avram, the violinist, and Dimitru,
who became a renowned piano teacher and jazz composer in Bucharest and now
resides in Israel. During the 1970s, Prof. Shvartz had made some cassettes of
the playing of Avram Bughici and Gheorghe Bughici, both on violin. Avram
Bughici sold a book of repertoire to Itzik for use in the theater. Although the
manuscript may now be lost, Itzik did make a cassette recording around 1975
with the accompaniment of accordionist Izu Gott (son of Dorohoi klezmer
clarinetist Berko Gott), sight-reading the pieces on accordion. (Izu, a
classically trained bassist who lives part of each year in Israel, has since
served as music director of the Romanian Federation of Jews, as well as its
president.) From Avram Bughici’s book we can assume the nature of the
family’s repertoire – lots of khosidls, to be sure, several
freylachs, with some theater songs and doinas.
The Segal family were
considered more accomplished musicians, however, and played in the Iasi Yiddish
theater as well. Unfortunately, a manuscript of their music may have been lost
– we are still looking for it – but hopefully in the future I will
get the chance to meet one Segal still big in the Romanian entertainment
business – Gheorghe Segal, known as TV personality Gheorghe Sava –
and ask if he knows anything about this. Sava’s father’s gravestone
in the Iasi cemetery features a carved stone harp, as testament to his prowess
as a musician.
Elsewhere in Moldavia we know of other Jewish
musicians. In Roman, before the Holocaust, there was Hayim "Hersko" Herskovits,
a trumpeter, as well as fiddlers Moishe Musikant and Iancu Malai. The popular
Romanian song composer Richard Stein was also from Roman. Jewish musicians in
Roman often played alongside Gypsies, and a basic band was formed of a violin
or trumpet, accordion, and drum – a very typical lineup for a modern
Moldavian band even today.
In modern Moldavian folk music we still
find traces of Jewish repertoire in the music of the fanfara brass bands. The
elder generation of Romanian and Gypsy folk fiddlers often have pieces of
klezmer origin in their repertoires, although this is becoming rarer these
days. Dances such as "Jidancuta", "Jidoveasca", and melodies commonly recorded
by early klezmer musicians are still current among many village repertoires.
Cohen provides a lot of detail and wonderful photographs about his experiences with Jewish music in Romania on Mark Rubin's blog. I encourage peeking.
On Jewish music in Transylvania, Cohen writes:
In Transylvania we
find fewer traces of Jewish musicians. One reason is the different social
development of Transylvania’s Jews under the Austro-Hungarian monarchy. In
this region, as in Hungary (after 1825), it was mostly Gypsy musicians who
provided instrumental music for Jews. Transylvania was a part of Hungary
previous to 1920. As "Hungarian" Jews, Transylvanian Jews were enfranchised as
citizens in 1867, and even before that date were accepting social assimilation
to a "Hungarian" national identity, after the German Jewish model. In 1867
Hungary’s Jewish communities split into Neolog (sort of "Reform") and
Orthodox, with certain communities remaining as "Status Quo Ante". Thus,
communities in Cluj (Kolozsvar in Hungarian), Arad, Sibiu, and Timisoara
(Temesvar in Hungarian) were predominantly Neolog, and adopted Hungarian
language in place of Yiddish.
Alongside many other Hungarian customs
they adopted, Jews were great patrons of Hungarian popular music, or Magyar
notak, and a Neolog wedding allowed for mixed-sex dancing. Gypsy musicians
were hired for Jewish weddings, and played a few Jewish songs (usually "Belz"
alongside various Yiddish theater songs and a few Sabbath zmiros) while
providing csardas music for dancing. In Fizesul Gherleii (Ordongosfuzes in
Hungarian) as well as Sarmas, local Gypsy village bands also played sets of
"Jewish Dances". Zoltan Blum, a Jew from Fizesul Gherleii, remembers Jews
dancing in a circle to this music before WWII. He also says that Jews in the
village lived harmoniously with their neighbors, except for three things which
they would never do with non-Jews: eat with them, bathe with them, or dance
with them.
So much for the Austro-Hunagrian enlightened ideal. Clearly, Jewish music differs from Romanian folk music in some important ways. Seth Rogovoy distinguishes Romanian folk music from Jewish music in its connection to the Yiddish language and ornamentation:
Yet for all the “borrowings” of klezmer, for all the Romanian dance rhythms and the haunting melodies that some attribute to the music’s Gypsy flavorings, there is something essentially Jewish that separates klezmer from Gypsy or Romanian music. This is partly due to its close connection to the Yiddish language, spoken by Jews. It is also demonstrably a technical question of phrasing or ornamentation – those krekhts, or achy moans that are characteristic of klezmer violinists and clarinetists, along with the tshoks, or laugh-like sounds, and kneytshn, the sob-like “catch,” which are all directly borrowed from the characteristic vocal ornamentation of the khazones, the prayer melodies of the synagogue cantors. But even more than any of these specific cultural influences, there is something more intangibly Jewish that gives klezmer its distinctive flavor, that makes it different from other closely-related Balkan folk musics.
Romanian film director Radu Gabrea has produced several films on Jewish music in Romania. If you are interested in learning more about Romanian Jewish music, I suggest reading a little about the cimbalom and exploring the following links:
Maria Tanase never fails to illumine a room with her soul-filled rending of traditional Romanian songs. Since a bottle of Murfatlar plus Maria is the promise of a perfect evening, I thought I'd share a few mp3s with those who have yet to experience her (or those who miss the experience of her). Just right-click on the links and select "Save as" to download the mp3s at the sites listed below. And don't forget to thank the folk-hosts who have so kindly shared this music with us....
59 tunes by Maria Tanase at Romanian Music
58 tunes by Tanase from Chisinau Forum
Romica Puceanu + Maria Tanase at everderame
Tribute to Tanase by Nigel Kennedy from Trezirea
"95 de ani de la nasterea Mariei Tanase"
SubUrban Bucharest renders a Tanase tune
Ciulinii Baragnului (1958)
Maria Tanase's final resting place
Many videos of Tanase's tunes at my soul music
A tune from Maria T with the Balanescu Quartet
Tanase videos with neat explanations at idleopinion
Tanase on the Romanian wikipedia