Potomac Winds Blowing Sweet Sounds

I help keep the rhythm going on my djembe* as each flute player in the circle takes a turn allowing his or her spirit to lead in song. I'm glad I spent time on the Web learning the basic strokes, and I try to incorporate tones, slaps, and basses in my drumming. Finally, recording artist and world flutist Suzanne Teng takes a turn with her flute, dancing in the middle of the circle as she plays. She gets closer to me, and then for an instant our eyes meet, and we are playing to each other. I was drumming for Suzanne Teng!

Never mind that someone else was playing a djembe, and on the other side of the circle someone was playing a doumbek, and over there was Gilbert Levy, percussionist extraordinaire and her partner in music and life, leading us all. That moment was still mine.

It was the final workshop at the 7th annual Potomac Native American Flute Festival in Arlington, Virginia, and the climax of a great weekend of flutes and friends. For this festival, my fourth, I accepted an invitation to serve as what would come to be known as an "uber-volunteer," basically being available to help for the entire festival, rather than just a few hours here or there. It was well worth the long hours to become much more a part of the festival than ever before.

Mostly I helped with food service: keeping the snack table stocked, making urns of coffee, putting large trays of sandwiches out for lunch, taking meal tickets, and generally keeping an eye on things. But I also sat at the information desk, sold CDs, took tickets at the Saturday night concert, and helped vendors move their wares.

In between shifts I had ample opportunity to try out flutes from the various vendors - always a high point of the festival. It's just amazing how different a flute made by one maker sounds from one made by another. Discovering each flute's unique voice is one of the greatest pleasures a "flutie" can have.

Every year we are blessed by having some of the finest flute makers in the country here: Colyn Petersen, Brent Haines, Brad Young, Hawk Henries, and several others. We are also lucky to have some newer, perhaps unfamiliar makers come to the festival to expand our flute world.

Last year I decided my next flute would be a high Hawk Henries. He had one I really liked, but since I had just dropped some serious money on a custom flute by Brent Haines, I waited a whole year, just thinking about that flute. And I'm glad I did, because now he had a gorgeous spalted birch version of it with an Alaskan yellow cedar bird and endcaps. I knew as soon as I saw it and blew my song into it on the opening day of the festival that it was mine.

Every flute Hawk makes is stunning in its simplicity and natural beauty. He adds no decorative frills, and that somehow allows the woodgrain of every flute to be the star of the show. The bird (totem) is typically small and flat - again, simple and

unobtrusive, pleasing to the eye but not calling attention to itself. The leather ties securing the bird to the flute are thin and unadorned with beads or feathers, simply enhancing the overall look.

He uses only hand tools to make his flutes, and yet each one seems perfect and exact. When you pick one up, you are struck by how silky it feels under your fingers.

Hawk Henries' flutes are a perfect reflection of the quiet, gentle, unassuming, beautiful man he is.

My new flute, however, has to be a cut above all the other flutes Hawk brought this year. The spalted birch is fascinating and beautiful to look at, and the Alaskan yellow cedar complements it perfectly. And its aroma is intoxicating.

But let's not forget its sound! While it's definitely beautiful enough to serve only as a decorative piece, it is ultimately its voice which brings it home for flute players. And this flute has a high, distinct - forgive me - bird-like sound. It chortles and barks, too, so there is plenty of interest in what might otherwise be a limiting range.

I had a golden opportunity to become familiar with other makers' flutes as well, while sitting at the information desk. Right across from me sat more than a dozen flutes donated by their makers to be raffled off throughout the weekend. They just begged to be played, so of course I obliged! Here was a Colyn Petersen, always reliably clear and resonant. Here was an interesting cane flute by Geri Littlejohn, who often makes flutes in their natural state, like actual tree branches. Here was a Leonard McGann, a Brent Haines - and here was an incredible raven's head flute by Brad Young. It became the flute I couldn't stop playing. The sound was just beautifully clear, and it was so easy to play well. By the end of the afternoon I had become quite attached to it, though I knew someone else would probably win it.

Later in the day, I found out I had won a flute! It wasn't the Brad Young, but rather the river cane flute by Geri Littlejohn, also one I liked playing, so I was very happy.

The cane comes from the coastal areas of the Southeast, and Geri gave it an interesting finish by burning it in places and then applying a coat of oil. This also gave the flute a wonderful smell which reminded me of a campfire.

Of course the best part of the festival was sharing my interest in and love of the Native American Flute with other like-minded people and making new friends in the process. I am struck by the wonder of being in such company, sharing in our unspoken understanding of the captivation we feel with this incredible instrument, and laughing at the "sickness" we all have in common, the inability to stop buying more flutes. (Nobody's trying to get well, either!)

After the excitement of playing my djembe with Suzanne Teng and Gilbert Levy at the final workshop on Sunday, I talked with Gilbert for quite a while about drumming. ("It all boils down to boom-chic.") The last event was an Open Mic, and then we tore down, packed, and cleaned up. My new friend Jeff from upstate New York sat tapping out his Sunday festival report for the online Flute Portal on his iPhone. Debbie swept the now-empty vendor area with a broom. Vendors trickled out, hugging and saying goodbye until next year.

I was sorry to see the festival end, but I felt re-energized, and that was my hope for attending. What's next? Attending the Northern Virginia Flute Circle, for sure. Considering making the trip to Musical Echoes or Native Rhythms in Florida, or the Pacific Northwest Flute Quest. Going to a drum circle to play my djembe. And of course throwing my name in to serve as on-site staff at next year's Potomac Flute Festival!

*African hand drum

Photo credits: 1) Suzanne Teng playing flute, me directly behind her playing djembe, photo courtesy of Jefferson Svengsouk; 2) Night Writer, 3) Night Writer

Night Owl Plays Flute

Some might say it was an unusual gathering. Women with big '80s hair; a handful of biker types, their snow-white hair in long braids; nerdy, pocket protector guys; the occasional handsome loner; and plenty of average joes to round out the crowd - all united by their love of the Native American Flute (NAF) at the Fifth Annual (and my second) Potomac Native American Flute Festival this past weekend. They came from the D.C. area, West Virginia, Ohio, and Pennsylvania, toting a lone favorite flute or a quiver made especially for multiple flutes.

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 the 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