Flute players are generally an upbeat crowd, and after the first day was canceled due to inclement weather, they were even more excited to start on Saturday morning. I attended a practical workshop on breathing by Jan Seiden, who did biomedical research before discovering the NAF and who now gives workshops and presentations, plays concerts, and records. Her workshop recalled previous training I'd had in both voice lessons and karate, so I was able to draw on those experiences and found it a helpful refresher with a new application. Then I went to a workshop on "looping," or recording layered rhythm accompaniment tracks. You could sense people's interests being piqued as their minds opened up to taking their flute playing to a new level, previously unconsidered.
After shopping among the various flute vendors throughout the morning and agonizing between an F# and a C flute I'd tried, I returned to Lone Crow Flutes and bought the C from Leonard McGann, about as friendly a guy as you could hope for as the maker of your first serious flute. He told me about making my flute, showing me the detailed woodburning around t
he circumference, and he gave me some playing tips. It's a beautiful instrument made of poplar, with Eastern red cedar endcaps and gorgeous purple heart inlays in both the endcaps and "bird" (the block strapped to the top that forms the air channel between the air chamber and sound chamber). (The moccasin in the photo is my feeble attempt at providing scale.)The sound is low, round, and resonant, a big brother to the child of my high A flute. The right hand finger holes are spaced a little further apart than I'm used to, but Leonard says I'll adjust.
The other flute maker I spent a lot of time with was Brent Haines, of Woodsounds. His flutes are absolute works of art. The first thing you notice is the almost otherworldly beauty of the wood; never before have I seen so much variety in color or pattern of woodgrain, and some flutes have turquoise inlaid in the gaps and fissures of the wood. One of the most distinctive
and naturally attractive features was the jagged, uneven end of some, looking like they had just fallen to the forest floor after centuries of standing tall. They are all finished with a glossy polymer that highlights the wood, gives a silky feel to the player, and protects the flute with a tortoise shell hardness (not to mention uniquely allowing the mouthpiece to be cleaned with an alcohol swab).But of course the true glory is their incredibly rich sound. From the very first note you can tell they are very special. The volume, control, and color you can produce is amazing, and the proof can be seen in the long list of recording artists who play these flutes (and in how difficult I found it to stop trying them out). One day I'll have my own!
Now I know why every flute is so special to NAF artists. In songbooks you might find a notation of the type of flute used for the song (e.g., "Spanish Cedar Left-Handed F#"). At concerts, the player might identify not only the kind of wood but also the maker and even say something more about it. Even a year ago, I didn't fully appreciate this practice, but now I understand. Much like pianos, every flute feels, plays, and sounds different. You become intimately familiar with its strengths and quirks, and you also develop a relationship with the maker. Each flute is unique to the owner by virtue of this combination, so it's only natural to want to talk about it with people who share your passion.
The Saturday night concert was given by none other than R. Carlos Nakai, THE premier Native American Flute recording artist in the country. No one else has done as much to revive and
reinvigorate Native American Flute music, and it was a thrill and an honor to have him play for us. I already owned three of his CDs and learned how to play from his book, so I was very excited to hear him live and also to stand in line for an autograph of my fourth CD. Besides playing solo flute for the evening, he talked to us seemingly about whatever came to mind in a gentle, relaxed spirit that made you feel not only that he had all the time in the world, but that you did, too.I must be part Native American. When my brother and I were kids, we were in the YMCA Indian Guides with our dad. I absolutely loved it: choosing an Indian name (I think my name was "Day Owl" and my dad's was "Night Owl," but given my habits, I don't think he'd mind if I appropriated his name for my own use), woodburning and then wearing our nametags around our necks, going to meetings and earning feathers for our headbands, learning animal tracks and Indian symbols. Far from being corny, it taught me respect for Native Americans. Years later, when I started sending Christmas cards, I would send only Leanin' Tree cards, which depicted scenes of cowboys around campfires, birds and squirrels gathering around pine trees, and Indians on horseback, looking up to the sky. The only ones I was attracted to were those showing reverential scenes of Native Americans connecting with the Great Spirit. At my church today, we pray the Lord's Prayer in its many versions from around the world, and I always want to use the Native American version. And for the past two years I have been in love with the NAF. I already know which flute I am going to buy at next year's festival, and I'm working on a plan to take a Woodsounds flute home with me someday. Beyond that: a rattle, a drum, a looper, microphone, and amplifier?
I don't know why it speaks to me so strongly, but its voice touches me in a deep part of my being seldom accessed any other way. This isn't surprising, given its application in various medical and behavioral therapies. Maybe it really is in my blood; its sound is very close to that of the shakuhachi, or Japanese bamboo flute, which is pentatonic like some NAFs and shares some of its construction characteristics and playing techniques. Whatever the reason, I can't stop thinking about moving to the Southwest, buying an adobe house, and sitting out at night under the stars, playing my flutes to the accompaniment of a crackling fire in the chiminea and coyotes howling in the distance.
In my first year of playing, I was just learning, listening, and trying to understand. Then at my first flute festival, I was awed by Hawk Henries' transcendent, meditative playing. I was electrified by Ron Warren's innovative music and moved by his collaborations with voice and cello. My mind was opened to the unlimited possibilities of NAF playing, and I was inspired to play more and learn as much as I could. And now, after another year, having played many flutes and met their makers and having had the honor of hearing Carlos Nakai play live, I am firmly in the grip of this beautiful instrument.
At the end of his concert, Mr. Nakai said, "Let the journey begin." Mine has.
Photo credits: top - M. Abe, middle - Woodsounds.net, bottom - RCarlosNakai.com
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