This erudite, absorbing volume chronicles the travels of ethnomusicologist Theodore Levin through urban and rural Transoxania... He writes in evocative, imaginative, personalized prose that vividly captures the flavor of his everyday experiences, providing plush visual detail, trenchant character profiles, attention to perplexing local hospitality codes and the shaping hand of gender, throughout." ―Slavic Review ... extremely informative, using music as a platform for a much wider discussion of cultural and political issues." ―Times Literary Supplement, London The subject is music, but Levin uses it to cast a wider light, revealing places of considerable sorrow long hidden in the shadows of Soviet power, and to create a travelogue with wide potential appeal.... Candor about his own uncertainties and personal struggles helps make this a personal as well as a scholarly adventure." ―Publishers Weekly (starred review) Not to be missed by those interested in music and world culture... " ―Library Journal ... may be destined to become the definitive work on the music of this newly accessed region." ―Dirty Linen The Hundred Thousand Fools of God assembles a living musical and ethnographic map by highlighting the fate of traditions, beliefs, and social relationships in Muslim and Jewish Central Asian cultures during and after seventy years of Soviet rule. Theodore Levin evokes the spectacular physical and human geography of the area and weaves a rich ethnography of the life styles, values, and art of the musical performers. Photographs, maps, and an accompanying CD (featuring 24 on-site recordings) make The Hundred Thousand Fools of God a unique reading and listening experience.
Before the fall of Central Asian Communism (or rather, its conversion into Central Asian autocracy), Theodore Levin set out to track down and document the area's musical traditions. Levin is a congenial guide to the area, with a deep respect for the people, and, as a result, much of this book is astonishing. Some traditions he found, on first arriving, stifled by the Soviet definition of "folk music" and how it could be used (although this book, like many others, challenges the notion that there is an immutable, pre-modern tradition). Once he makes his way beyond the Soviet fog, he finds a wealth of music, although all too often he has to convince someone to take up an instrument long ago put away. He finds the descendants of the Jewish musicians for the Emir of Bukhara (now moved to Brighton Beach). Particularly enjoyable is his ability to find and elicit answers from women musicians, some of them with strictly female audiences. But the tragedy of Central Asia is nowhere better illustrated than his visit to the very remote Yagnab Valley, whose residents were, basically, abducted by the Soviets, then helicoptered and trucked to provide labor for the foolish effort to grow cotton industrially, the same one that almost dried up the Sea of Aral, around which useless fishing boats now decay on land. Many of the Yagnabis found their way back to the valley, but of course things are never the same (and probably wouldn't have been anyway).
Any curiosity about the passionate, yet ethereal Central Asian music can now be satisfied without making Levin's arduous journey. Yo-Yo Ma's Silk Road project has done an admirable job of making the music live. The Smithsonian has a striking series, and Yulduz Usmanova and Sevara Nazarkhan have lovely voices.
Twenty years ago, I wrote my first review for Amazon, of Richard N. Frye's "Bukhara: The Medieval Achievement". Frye's work, concentrating mostly on the 10th and 11th centuries, described in detail how Turkic-speaking nomads combined with Iranian city dwellers and Arab bringers of a new religion to create a new synthesis in Islam in Central Asia, particularly in the city of Bukhara. That syncretic Islam later became most instrumental in the development of the Muslim faith in the Indian subcontinent. Levin's THE HUNDRED THOUSAND FOOLS OF GOD mainly describes the condition of music and musicians in the 1990s in the modern republics of Uzbekistan and Tajikistan. That same Richard N. Frye provides a strong endorsement on the back cover. I too find that this volume is a worthy successor in the on-going "project" of bringing Central Asian history and culture before Western eyes. The musical world of Central Asia still involves synthesis---between the West and tradition, between new conservatism and older tolerance, between Soviet atheism and local spirituality, between Islam and older religions which we might label shamanistic, and between so-called ethnic groups like Uzbeks and Tajiks. Levin travelled around the region with a musical companion, Otanazar Matyakubov, who provided endless contacts and insights. Together they interviewed and listened to all the varied performers of Central Asian music, from a female pop singer to humble performers of classical styles, from healers in remote villages who used music in their rituals to performers at schmaltzy Jewish weddings in the transplanted Bukharan Jewish community in Queens, New York. Levin describes the surroundings in which he found each musician, tells of his travels in decrepit cars between ancient cities or by donkey through the dramatic mountain scenery of remotest Tajikistan. While a certain amount of detail may be of interest chiefly to fellow ethnomusicologists, those specialized observations are spaced throughout the text in such a way that the non-professional reader never feels overwhelmed. Levin provides a number of excellent photographs, maps, and most importantly, a brilliant CD which illustrates all the styles and instruments he discusses. The effect of 70 years of Soviet policies is often mentioned, and a reader can deduce the results of this assault on local culture, though I would have liked more direct comment. Moscow's insistence on creating discrete "nationalities" created virulent brands of Uzbek and Tajik (and so many others) nationalism where none had existed. It created separate, ethnic-based countries where none had ever existed. It even created "Uzbek" and "Tajik" music out of a formerly seamless Central Asian tradition. This Soviet policy ultimately resulted in the squeezing out of Bukharan Jews-prominent in the Central Asian musical world for centuries---because they were deemed insuffic-iently "Uzbek" by newly nationalistic authorities. In short, this is one of the best books of ethnomusicology I have ever read. It would be of interest to anyone trying to learn more about Central Asia and must be required reading for anthropologists concerned with the area. THE HUNDRED THOUSAND FOOLS OF GOD also brings the region to life and underlines the difference between the materialistic, narrowly nationalistic present and the past in which musicians played out of devotion and love of God without trying to fit into some culture apparatchik's idea of "national music".
As a PhD student in ethnomusicology in the late 1970s, Theodore Levin traveled to Uzbekistan to study the shash maqam, the classical music of Transoxania. At that time, Soviet bureaucracy prevented him from traveling freely and presented him with only a sanitized, Communist-friendly version of traditional music. But with the breakup of the USSR in the early 1990s, Levin got a chance to roam about the region and really take stock of the musical scene. THE HUNDRED THOUSAND FOOLS OF GOD is a record of these travels from 1991-1994, taken with the Tashkent-based musicologist Otanazar Matyakubov (usually referred to as "OM") who helps Levin navigate the cultural and linguistic challenges of Central Asia.
Levin encounters an enormous variety of musical traditions within Uzbekistan and Tajikistan: classical court music, shamans who heal with song, bards who recite epic poetry, Muslim mystics, and composers who represent folksong in their otherwise Western music. Throughout, Levin's concern is the relationship between these musical styles and society. He investigates the role these musical traditions played in Central Asia before the Soviet era and globalization, and he gives a grim view of their future. In the final chapter, Levin and OM visit a Bukharan Jewish musician who has emigrated to Queens, New York only to discover that, instead of preserving their traditions in the relative freedom of the United States, Bukharan Jews there are losing themselves in the great Jewish diaspora.
Though he is an academic, Levin knows how to write in a fun, engaging tone. He adds just enough of a travelogue element to satisfy the curiosity of Western readers on this still obscure part of the world. It has been nearly 15 years since Levin's book appeared, and there is still a dearth of information of Central Asian music, so THE HUNDRED THOUSAND FOOLS OF GOD certainly fills a void.
However, I do wish that Levin had talked more about the music itself, not just the relationship between music and society. Readers might wonder if this region's music is microtonal, as in the Middle East, or whether it accepts certain intervals we consider dissonant, as e.g. Bulgarian traditional music does. There is an accompanying CD where one can hear Levin's recordings, but I've encountered the book in a few places without the CD.
One of the best books for reading about Uzbekistan (there is something about Tajikistan here too, but the main focus is what lies inside Uzbekistan's borders). Though I am not musically inclined enough to understand everything in this book, the parts about travel and culture were immensely useful. Bonus points for the CD included with the book. I just wish I found out what happened to OM.