July/August 2003

Views expressed are those of the authors, not necessarily of the AFSC.

An Old, Healing Music

Elaine Mar is the author of Paper Daughter (HarperCollins) and is working on a book about Renaissance fairs.

Initially, I resisted going to see the band Cantiga perform. For one thing, they play Early Music, a genre with which I was unfamiliar. For another, they perform mainly at Renaissance fairs, a venue that didn’t appeal to me—I was suspicious of any event that sought to recreate an all white, highly stratified, monarchist society where women were called wenches and couldn’t own property. Then I was given a copy of Cantiga’s latest CD, The Otter’s Pool (Cantiga Productions, 2001), and I changed my mind.

The music is lovely, thirteen tracks that range from traditional folk melodies such as the jigs “The Road to Lisdoonvarna” and “Morrison’s Jig” to more formal pieces written for Queen Elizabeth I by the late 16th- and early 17th-century composer William Byrd (“The Queen’s Alman”). I liked the CD immediately, but it didn’t provoke much thought—at least, not at first. Given the genre, I expected—and therefore heard—predictable, old-fashioned, Western European instrumental music. At first, it sounded roughly like the soundtrack to an Elizabethan period movie to me, lovely background music by which to putter around the house. After all, the band’s core instruments are traditionally Western: wooden flute and fife, played by Bob Bielefeld; violin, by Mark Caudill; cello, by Max Dyer; and Celtic harp, by Martha Gay.

But when I listened more closely, I was surprised. Guest artists Jamal Mohamed and Nestor Prieto, both percussionists, bring distinctly Middle Eastern, Asian, and African sounds to the music: Mohamed plays doumbek and mazhar, and Prieto plays djembe, tamborine, castanets, Chinese cymbal, African shaker, and finger cymbals. Intrigued by the presence of these instruments, I set out to learn more about the band and the music that it plays.

According to band members Bob Bielefeld and Mark Caudill, Cantiga was named after a 13th century book of miracles called Cantigas de Santa Maria; “cantiga” translates to “song” or “canticle.” The book, consisting of 427 religious fables set to music, was compiled by Alfonso X, also known as Alfonso El Sabio (Alfonso the Wise), ruler of Galicia, Castille, and Leon from 1252 to 1284. This period, like much of the Middle Ages and even the Renaissance, was a period of religious and political strife throughout Europe—although this fact is paid scant attention at the Medieval and Renaissance fairs where the band Cantiga plays. During the Medieval era, the Catholic Church had a repressive hold on the governments of Europe. It sought to ban all learning that was not Church-approved. Only monks, nuns, and priests were allowed to practice most crafts and trades. The Middle Ages were called the Dark Ages for these reasons.

The areas that Alfonso X ruled had been conquered by the Moors (who were Muslim) in the 8th century. These lands were recaptured by Alfonso X’s Christian predecessors, in pieces, over the next five centuries. His father, Ferdinand III, was renowned for his conquest of Moorish territories. Civil wars and Moorish rebellions continued throughout Alfonso X’s reign. Like most rulers of the time, he worked to suppress them, even to gain more land. None of his political policies were exceptional. The extraordinary aspect about his reign—the reason that Alfonso X came to be known as Alfonso El Sabio—was that he surrounded himself with scholars, artists, and musicians of many different religions, Jewish and Muslim as well as Christian, during such a violent and politically volatile time. In fact, the Cantigas de Santa Maria, one of the most important collections of music from that era, are set to melodies that blend Celtic, Islamic, and Jewish traditions—a direct result of Alfonso X’s leadership.

I consider the musical collaboration a type of peace movement in itself, one with enduring ramifications. According to legend, the original book of Cantigas had healing powers for those who came into contact with it. Fans of the band Cantiga believe that the band’s music has these same healing powers. People have come to Cantiga shows with stories about how listening to the band’s CDs has helped them recover from physical illnesses. Having attended Cantiga performances at Renaissance fairs, college lecture halls, and nightclubs, I can attest to the effect of the music myself. I have witnessed fussy babies soothed, bickering families calmed, belligerent adolescents entranced—it is another kind of healing.

There are, of course, parallels to the broader situation in our modern world—and I hope, lessons to be learned. Textbook history often focuses only on the wars fought, land gained, governments overturned. Today’s ongoing wars, terrorism, economic deprivation, and political posturing can narrow our perspective to include only these things. It’s easy to forget the peace movements that occur out of the love for art.

I have listened to The Otter’s Pool countless times now, and seen Cantiga perform in many venues, playing with its core members alone, and accompanied by guest artists from cultures as diverse as Chile and Russia. I can’t claim to believe in the band’s healing powers with any certainty; I’m simply not that mystically minded. However, I will say that whenever I listen to their music, particularly in live performances, I forget the strife affecting my own life. Caught up in the beauty of their music, I am able to transcend my own human fallibilities. The experience gives me hope. I sometimes despair of organizations or governments ever achieving peace, but I have faith in the ability of art to bring people together.

(For further information about Cantiga, contact CANTIGA, 902 Hawthorne, Clear Lake Shores, TX 77565 or maxdyer@iapc.net)

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