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Mark Sabbatini |
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Banishment from the country occurs with the publishing of these words.
Thinking otherwise is idiocy after my experience and those of others visiting Turkmenistan, the most two-sided country of the 50 or so I've visited, seeking jazz in the most remote and unlikely places on Earth. A metropolis of brilliantly lit new buildings, monuments and fountains are dazzling camouflage over some of the world's most repressed people in its capital, Ashgabat. They may wait hours for a trickle of water to fill a bucket.
Visiting was irresistible due to maniacal demands by former president-for-life Saparmurat Niyazov. Doctors pledged allegiance to him instead of the Hippocratic Oath. He renamed the months after himself and his family, and he closed libraries outside the capital on the assumption rural residents are illiterate. Nearly all educational texts are eschewed in favor of a volume he allegedly wrote that's largely the Gospel Of Me, with employment, driver's licenses and proof of loyalty dependent on knowing it sufficiently.
Things are slightly better after his unexpected death of a heart attack last December, and a man rumored to be his illegitimate son took over in a rigged election. But it's still the most hostile country on Earth toward the press, except for North Korea, so I obviously avoided mentioning such ties.
But in one momentary slip in a pub, I exposed myself to the serpent's nest beneath the smiling faces and shiny surfaces.
Not thinking, I handed my business card to the backslapping manager, asking if he'd mind my talking to the band between sets (something I've done instinctively hundreds of times elsewhere). He turned Arctic, thrust the card back and moments later harshly escorted me out of the pub saying he wanted nothing to do with me. I shudder with terror, thinking: What if he hadn't reacted so quickly and held onto the card? Any of the endless soldiers lining the streets could have used it to find me immediately due to extensive tourist registration requirements.
Given such circumstances, not to mention bans on things such as the opera and ballet, it's amazing anything close to jazz exists. But the concepts are ingrained into some of Turkmenistan's most popular traditional folk music. Instrumental improvisations are common on a two-stringed lute known as a dutar, the country's most popular instrument.
A massive collection of free online music in genres from classical to modern pop (paying tribute to Niyazov, of course) can be found at www.turkmenmusic.com, which also contains a detailed history of the country's music and musicians.
A few jazz-oriented albums probably can be tracked down with some Googling, with perhaps the best being Michael Charyev's "Nurana." His 16-member ensemble plays reasonably progressive fusion on modern and traditional instruments, with plenty of the native color sprinkled through. The better stuff tends to be later when only subsets are playing, allowing the unique tones and phrasing to emerge better. But listeners will need to plod through mindless and synth-heavy ethnic New Age that is unfortunately prevalent at the beginning.
As for gigs, aside from my expulsion from the City Pub? Another nearby place called the British Pub in the heart of downtown had a couple the week I was there, although that's not necessarily the normal frequency. One was a trio of guitars playing traditional standards, the other featured West Coast fusion by a guitar-led trio before they launched into high-volume R&B for their second set. Alas, the audience didn't show much interest - seats near the stage were mostly empty and applause nonexistent until the band started rocking on more familiar tunes.
Considering the level of cultural repression, it's surprising jazz was easier to find than in some neighboring countries ending in "-stan." But listeners are mostly ex-pats and visiting dignitaries trying to profit from things such as the country's vast petroleum reserves.
Unemployment in the country is around 70 percent and workers often go unpaid, leaving those towering buildings unoccupied. Not that you'll ever see beggars or anyone complaining about it. As the arrival sign at the airport reminds visitors in multiple languages, "We should glorify our Motherland."
Mark Sabbatini is a professional music critic who didn't dare attempt anything of the sort during the past several weeks of traveling through China and various Central Asian countries with less-than-friendly attitudes toward the press, which is why his promised columns were nowhere to be seen. He can be reached at marksabbatini@yahoo.com.