To be nothing
‘The Sun’ by Edvard Munch, courtesy University of Oslo
In its original form, folk music was related to specific social activities, which might have included wedding celebrations, dancing, lullabies, or herding; it was played for audiences who knew its nuances and conventions. As both listeners and performers were familiar with the tradition, the quality of folk music was judged in conventional ways, which had little to do with personal taste or artistic individuality.
Norwegian folk music was mainly associated with the violin, and particularly with the Hardanger fiddle, which has resonating strings, not unlike the Indian sitar. It was developed for dances, and the fiddlers were normally working men from villages and farms, who didn’t earn a living from their musical talents. The rhythm and structure of Hardanger fiddle music are idiosyncratic; its tunes, which can sound a little strange to those who are unaccustomed to them, are formed from short melodic segments that circle around each other repeatedly, with subtle variations. It can also feel uncanny, and although its roots are utilitarian, Norwegian fiddle music has a darker side, as do many folk traditions. There are stories of supernatural intervention in Nordic musical folklore; sometimes they involve otherworldly encounters that happened at liminal places, such as crossroads, or at streams or waterfalls. The water sprite called ‘nøkken’, or the ‘nix’, was often said to be a skilled fiddler; in certain circumstances he might be persuaded to teach you all there was to know about his instrument.
Hardanger fiddle music has an unbroken lineage of masters and students from the 17th century to the present day, and Knut Hamre is among the most distinguished. He has played the instrument since childhood, and in 1974 he was the youngest ever winner of the national kappleik folk music competition, which he has won several times since; a decade later he became a teacher at Hardanger’s music school and was able to give up his jobs as bricklayer and chimney sweep. He spent much time travelling from parish to parish teaching young students, one of them being Benedicte Maurseth, who is now an internationally known musician. In her compelling book, To Be Nothing, Maurseth tells the history of the Hardanger fiddle and of her musical relationship with Hamre; illustrated with old photographs of the rugged landscapes and people that are at the heart of this remarkable music, it comprises a series of engaging short essays and dialogues about music, learning, teaching, the healing power of art, and life itself.
The book mainly connerns Hamre and his music, but Maurseth adds context and her own thoughts, both as an observer and as someone who is deeply involved with the Hardanger tradition. It soon becomes clear that Hamre’s influence has been profound, not simply as a musician, but as a person. Most of their conversations are relaxed, but there are differences and tensions between them, just as Hamre experienced in the past with his own teachers. To Be Nothing is about music, but it is also about how to live life; in their dialogues the two topics intertwine inseparably, and the musicians talk intensely about paths to be followed and decisions to be made. Some are voluntary; others are not.
Knut Hamre plays very pure and refined Hardanger fiddle music, and it comes as little surprise that he has moved away from its associations with dances, entertainment, and the supernatural, and has chosen to focus on the light. The best music, he says in one of the book’s dialogues, confirms beauty and evokes soothing emotions; its warmth can heal you. It is not about pleasing people or seeking success and approval, so even if temporarily ignored or overlooked, it will one day be discovered and acknowledged. You have to trust it. Nor can an artist assume that when the audience applauds it is because the music merits praise; if a performer or the work has already achieved success or acclaim, people will clap because others are doing so. Audiences tend to follow the collective flow, and only a few people are prepared to make up their own minds. Hamre’s austerity and self-effacement have led him to the point where he likes to feel that he isn’t playing his instrument, even though he is physically making the music. ‘Something else is playing through me’, he says. ‘The actual individual, in this case the person Knut Hamre, is unimportant. It is never about me, but about an art that is much greater than myself. This is why I’m a nothing’.
The differences between Maurseth and her teacher have perhaps become more pronounced as time has passed. On the lovely album ‘Rosa I Botnen’, released in 2006, they came together to play some of Norway’s oldest fiddles and to recreate traditional ways of making music, but on ‘Hárr’, her outstanding recent record (distributed by the excellent Hubro label), Maurseth pushes at boundaries, combining elements of Norwegian fiddle music, free improvisation, American minimalism, and found natural sounds, such as those of birds, reindeer, bumblebees and running water. Human voices, among them those of her great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather, also have their place. Maurseth has explained that ‘Hárr’ was inspired by the ‘ecosophy’ of the Norwegian philosopher Arne Næss, which is based on the conviction that human beings are part of an ecological system that is interdependent with nature, and that all life and all of nature’s rich diversity are of equal value. This may be another way of learning, in Hamre’s words, how to be nothing.
For further exploration:
Norwegian folk music and the otherworldly: https://www.brutenorse.com/blog/2018/3/29/dance-trance-and-devil-pacts-the-fiddler-in-norwegian-folk-mysticism
The Hardanger fiddle today: https://www.pbs.org/video/the-devils-instrument-zcmrch/
A track from one of Knut Hamre’s most celebrated albums: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wO4RHARLQy8&list=OLAK5uy_kcC02aosILCoAzeNMEy1W5DMLkqlUanWE&index=6
Benedicte Maurseth’s ‘Hárr’: https://maurseth.bandcamp.com/album/h-rr
On Arne Næss: https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2009/jan/15/obituary-arne-naess
About ‘Hubro’ music: https://www.allaboutjazz.com/hubro-making-room-for-marginalized-music-by-jakob-baekgaard
18th century Hardanger fiddle, courtesy Metropolitan Museum, New York