The Best Record You’ve Never Heard: Madra Salach reach into the depths of contemporary throat singing
It can’t be a coincidence that as the world spins into ever-deepening turmoil, and society continues to splinter into atomised pockets of digital disconnect, folk’s earthy and populist roots have fired off in earnest to pull people back together of late.
Dublin’s Madra Salach looks set to form a key role in folk’s second great revival. Irish for ‘dirty dog’, the six-piece conjure rustic ballads and stompers yet coated in a contemporary shroud of pedals and synths for a bristling sound that errs on post-punk, just. Alongside the likes of Goblin Band and following Lankum’s precedent, Madra Salach wrestles into the fraught and compromised cardigan gloop that folk can often be gunked with, and grabs for the very foundational heart of what makes the art form so stirringly essential to the British Isles’ popular heritage.
It’s already proven a winner. With only the ‘Blue & Gold’ and the recent ‘I Was Just a Boy’ singles behind them, Madra Salach have already whipped up a buzz about them, playing a reportedly packed show at London’s The George Tavern, opening for Kim Deal on several dates, and featuring on the line-up for Belfast hip-hop trio Kneecap’s Crystal Palace Park takeover next year.
Folk’s reignited working-class roots are a joy to behold, and Madra Salach will no doubt stand front and centre of its yet-to-be-written songbook. With debut EP It’s a Hell of an Age due in January, we caught up with frontman Paul Banks and picked his brains on the best record you’ve never heard to uncover a perhaps unknown influence on Madra Salach’s transportive world.
Paul Banks of Madra Salach on Divine Music from Jail:
Paul Banks: “If you are at all familiar with the tradition of throat singing, particularly from the region of Tuva (in Siberia), you will be aware of its stark uniqueness as a vocal approach to folk singing. When I first heard Tuvan throat singing, I was amazed by its execution. I was unaware that the human vocal cords could ever produce such a sound. A mix of awe and amusement came over me. I have to be honest, this was the extent of my interest, I was not particularly moved by what I heard.
“That changed when I heard Divine Music from Jail by Oidopuaa Vladimir Oiun. The album is exclusively Oidupaa’s vocals accompanied by accordion. It is not a typical example of Tuvan throat singing at all, and Oidupaa is credited with forging his own style.”
“The sound is intensely unique, quite jarring, but undeniably enchanting. I do not understand the lyrical content of these baroque songs, but I find them greatly moving. As the name suggests, Divine Music from Jail was recorded while Oidupaa was in prison. He was incarcerated by the Soviet Union and converted to Christianity while imprisoned, his faith is a major theme on the album.
“The validity of his charges seems to be greatly disputed. Like many folk artists, Oidopuaa was vocal about his dislike of the Soviet regime, and many believe his incarceration to be a result of political suppression as opposed to genuine criminality on his part. How he managed to access the equipment necessary to record this album while in a Siberian prison, I can not discern, but I’m glad he did… Easily the most idiosyncratic album I’ve ever encountered, I love it.”
There’s an unmistakable spirituality to Oidopuaa’s mastery of the throat singing practice, further enhanced by the context of his imprisonment. Able to pull his throat down to the deepest Kargyraa levels, the centuries-old practice carries with it an unfiltered sense of ritualistic connection to Tuvan tradition that penetrates the fortresses of the Soviet state he spent 33 of his 55 years on Earth confined in.
Officially locked up for “three counts of murder and corruption of a minor”, Oidopuaa always claimed such charges were slander, and furthered that many Tuvan artists were hounded with similar precepts.
Armed with just his voice and trusty bayan button accordion, Oidopuaa’s Divine Music from Jail indeed scored an immersion in Orthodox Christianity while inside, using his throat singing as a form of personal communion with his new faith. In between prison stints, a Japanese fan, Taeko Kano, reportedly pulled Oidopuaa away from his busking gigs to a bout of minor fame in Europe, playing sets in Sweden and Switzerland.
Met with derision on Russia’s Channel One TV channel, taking part in a musical contest show, his talents always found an entranced home in the festival and folk gatherings that understood his throat singing gifts. Passing away in 2013, Oidopuaa always maintained a zen and somewhat mystical relationship with his musical mastery.
“No one teaches you, no one prompts you,” he told Centre of Asia a year before his death. “You have to find everything by touch, moving forward blindfolded. It’s a very difficult task. And the soul demands: what’s next, try it.”
