On Michael Joseph’s latest CD O-glepi the sub-title is Songs for Native American Flute and Guitar but also includes the use of several other instruments. Spare use, minimal use of special effects. There are some sound-bytes in the background.
The sun has begun to shine and the combination of guitar and flute begins to haunt me, a romantic notion of loves gone by, of win or lose, of beauty and the beast, of flute and guitar, these sounds won’t leave me alone.
The Spanish tone of the song Redrock reminds me of the Spanish origin of the guitar and I wonder then if the Spanish conquistadores brought a guitar with them. They certainly brought horses with them. A rain stick is played and I am reminded of how this ride got started this morning.
The fourth song on the CD, Traditional plays on the little I-pod shuffle that I listen to and I am transported to a place of peace and serenity as the medicine man plays a rattle over me and prays with such spiritual fervor that a tear wells up in my eye. The song is performed on a Traditional five-hole flute.
I roll south along the eastern shore of Lake Calhoun and my pace is smooth and effortless. “O-glepi is Lakota for shadow. It is a perfect title for music that profiles the harsh, yet honorable life that the Plains peoples embraced. Even today there is no stronger example of tradition than that of the Native American people. Michael Joseph has put history to music and he has done it well.
I have always felt that there is much musical territory to explore between the contemporary and traditional forms. The combining of the various elements that make up these forms and then to translate them to song and recording is the cutting edge of the evolution of music.
I pedal on to 50th St. South going east now on the Minnehaha Blvd. bike path going toward Lake Nokomis. The path winds in and out of the balsam, cottonwood and maples that dominate this nature area. It’s beautiful and cool under the canopy of green and the lilacs sing hush, some still sleep. It’s lush and thrives with life and movement of its own and the guitar flute combination sets me to dreaming of another time. The song Rosebud begins in the earphones of the little aquamarine I-pod technology that is hustling me into the new millennium. I am swept away in a mixture of awe and disgust. Awe for the miracle that reveals itself in my footsteps every day. Disgust for the dirty, smelly, lewd city of Minneapolis and mouth wash parties under bridges at night.
I am reminded of the sun dance that I attended on the Rosebud. I assumed the position of fire keeper and keeping the campfire going. Gathering wood, firing kindling to get it going, putting a pot of coffee on. How powerful was that? Incredible! I have never seen nor will I ever see again anything as powerful as that. It changed my life.
Take my word for it; unless you’re sitting next to a beautiful woman, in front of the fireplace with a wine glass in your hand, solo flute sucks. Flute playing is much like a poetry reading, suicidal boredom at the very least.
I am not impressed by solo flute and the onliest man on the flute that I would love to hear solo doesn’t really do solo. R. Carlos Nakai pushed the envelope, bumped the craft of playing a traditional flute up a notch by experimenting with the territory between traditional and contemporary. I have nothing but admiration for that kind of genius.
Michael Joseph’s musical statement comes across with earthen heart and soul. “Music for the sake of music.” Michael’s Song Sparrow makes me feel like an eagle. I’m riding high now and I’m headed east into the sun.
