By: MJ
We were wandering the Plaza de Armas in Cusco the other day, scouting out a place to eat. Plenty of hosts were offering up their menus as we walked past their locations. But, despite their pressing, our lunch decisions are mainly based on what our kid is likely to eat and on constraining our budget and we were taking our sweet time. Pausing at one doorway, the host (who had more obnoxious shoes than I) offered us his glowing perspective on their menu and encouraged us to eat there. In making the decision to do so, but before entering, two musicians walked out with their acoustic equipment.
“Bummer” I thought. I noticed the elder musician was carrying a large traditional drum – quite worn and a bit rough, but with a wear mark near the center of the natural hide membrane. He was not in any particular hurry, but not looking like he was going to return.
Fast forward to the end of our meal. I had an appetizer but my main dish was delayed to the point of AJ and PJ almost being finished their meal. This was serendipitous as just after my meal was served, the duo I had noticed earlier returned. The younger musician had his charango in hand and charango case on his back, and went further upstairs. The elder musician placed his drum near us, and then vanished from view.
A few minutes later, the elder stood near the drum readying his instruments. He had a standard guitar with the tail of the strap strung under from the lower edge of the sound hole, and a large pan pipe secured high on his chest. To my good fortune he was facing my direction.
He closed his eyes and gently blew across the pan pipes and started a gentle traditional melody on the guitar. It was somewhat hard to distinguish dominance between the two sounds as he blended them so evenly. He played with varied tempo and volume, and appeared to almost immediately fall into a trance. The younger player appeared partway through, and began to casually accompany on his charango, directly at my side.
The second piece was again traditional and as expertly played. It had become apparent that the elder was a seasoned and professional level player. His head movements over the pan pipes were like a hungry yet picky hen, but he never overplayed or lost tone. His guitar playing was varied and melodic – some techniques he incorporated were not traditional, but he made them fit the traditional song he played. Eventually, and stealthily, he stepped in front of his drum and used one heel to add a sparse bass beat. He rarely opened his eyes – he was enjoying Flow. He had also drawn me in – I was immersed.
I had finished my meal and we were waiting for the bill/check, but this was a moment that needed more time, and appreciation. I had indicated to AJ that he should watch the elder player once the music started, and he did with an intensity that had me gazing back and forth between the two. Kids connect easily with music, and I wondered if the other diners were appreciating the performance.
The younger musician had the talent but not the intensity of Flow of the elder. They played very well together, and I suspected he was a relative or an apprentice. The charango rang out in crisp contrast to the guitar and pan pipes, with the pieces having the space for it to shine and diversify the song character, not just accompany. He moved into my field of view. Perfect, as I had been curious about this instrument and wanted to see how the right hand strummed the commonly used triplets among other things. He played with fingers and nails, but occasionally with a plectrum that was long and white, and perhaps leather.
PJ was ready to go, and AJ’s attention had returned to his book. I requested that we stay for one more piece, so we did. In the pause between the third and fourth pieces, we departed. I gave the younger a gleaming smile and nod, my best “Mucho gusto!”, and 10 sol as a tip. I declined to take one of their CDs – which I now regret but it did nicely confirm their level of accomplishment in their craft.
The assembled diners continued to clap politely and eat, and as we left I pondered who else present realized that the two musicians were not simply street musicians earning an afternoon buck. They started a fourth piece – “Yesterday” – and I was glad to have only heard traditional songs up to that point. “Yesterday” is a great and iconic song but it had nothing on what had been played in the preceding moments.
Because of their performance I walked away from that meal in a very different frame of mind to when I had arrived. Watching this duo reminded me that playing music (Flow) is far more than listening to music (immersion) which is far more than hearing music (attention). Glad to know the difference, I yearn for the foremost.
