SOAS University of London

Department of Music, School of Arts

10. Sary bidai


Singing tradition

From the heights of Altai the journey passes along the ranges of Tarbaghatai and Alatau into the region of Jetisu, stretching from southeastern Kazakhstan into Chinese Xinjiang, and crossed by several rivers, notably the Ili flowing into Lake Balkhash. Out of this land comes a remarkable tradition of singing celebrated for its sweet-voiced ‘nightingales’, Äset Naimanbaiūly (1867–1922) and his successor Dänesh Raqyshev. Though stylistically recognisable, Jetisu singing tradition is connected with the Altai and Sary-Arqa regions. Akin to Altaic songs, some folksongs of Jetisu are based on regular metre and diatonic sequences of narrow range (often hexachord), reminiscent of melodic patterns of throat-singing and harmonic instruments widespread in the Altai region. Some other songs from Jetisu, mainly those by known composers, bear features of the Arqa singing style, marked by irregular metres, complex melodic structures and high opening tones.

Nūrjan Janpeisov, one of the last pupils of Dänesh Raqyshev, embraces a variety of local repertoire. With a voice ranging from a bright, sparkling falsetto to warm low notes, he renders skilfully diverse folksongs (Tracks 8–9, 11) and those by Sädiqoja Moshanūly (Track 10) and Äset (Track 12) in which deep lyricism is set beside vivacity, wit and humour.

10. Sary bidai (Golden Wheat), Sädiqoja Moshanūly

Our auyl is at the foot of Ketpen.
If I set out early, will I reach your auyl?
Golden wheat!
I miss, oh, my light, your auyl!
If I catch the scent of the slender white neck,
Being late, will I leave your auyl?
Golden wheat!
I miss, oh my light, your auyl!
There is willow and birch in front of the door.
Even by your side summer will not be constant.
Darling, remembering and missing you,
I made this song about golden wheat.
There has not been a day without clouds in my head.
I feel my longing for you.
Golden wheat!
I miss, oh my light, your auyl!
When I come from afar, not sparing my horse,
Why, like a haughty doe, do you not come out?
Golden wheat!
I miss, oh my light, your auyl!