The other day, I had the incredible opportunity to attend a mesmerizing performance of Tuvan throat singing by the Alash Ensemble at the Marlboro Elementary School, a small pre-kindergarten through eighth-grade school in my hometown of Marlboro, Vermont.
It brought up a whole host of emotions.
Tuvan throat singing
The eerie, captivating music produced by the trio’s throats was spellbinding. Every sound humans make contains a spectrum of frequencies, but the magic of Tuvan throat singing is that specific frequencies are isolated and made audible, allowing the singers to produce multiple vocal notes simultaneously.
The band’s manager and interpreter Sean Quirk, introduced us to various styles of Tuvan singing, with each member demonstrating a different technique. My favorite moment was their a cappella opening performance, where the raw beauty of their voices took center stage.
The music was hauntingly beautiful. I’ve shared a short video of this a cappella performance above.
In the company of children
The performance marked the first time being around the children of Marlboro Elementary since the pandemic began over four years ago. Before COVID-19, my wife and I had volunteered at the school for decades. I spent time reading to the fourth and fifth graders weekly, gathered around after their lunchtime recess, sharing both classic and contemporary chapter books.
As I walked into the gym—fondly called “the outback” where school meetings and events are held—I felt a lump in my throat as the children filed in. I hadn’t realized how much I missed being in their presence.
Children and adults alike remained spellbound throughout the performance.
The children’s questions
Toward the end of the performance, we were invited to ask questions, which Stephen Quirk translated for the musicians. The children’s questions were delightful—thoughtful, curious, and brimming with wonder.
The final question came from a pre-kindergartener who asked: “Do you have a cat?” The room erupted in laughter. One musician responded that he had dogs, while another paused and, with a smile, said he had children. More laughter followed. My wife remarked later how the child was seeking a common connection with these musicians who sang in a foreign language and came from a place far away.
Serendipity
I feel blessed to have experienced this performance, especially because it wasn’t on my calendar when I woke up that morning. As it happened, I was dropping off a check for a nonprofit that supports the school to cover the cost of the performance. When I arrived, the school secretary asked if I’d like to attend the afternoon performance. My wife and I had some free time, so we came.
We’re so glad we did.