July 2023, I flew from Bremen, Germany, to Prishtina, Kosovo, with a 4-hour layover in Istanbul. With an armful of baggage and two guitars, I fight my way patiently through Rakija Street, the crowded party zone. I find the hotel, somehow and am exhausted when I finally get to my hotel on busy Mother Theresa Square around 11 pm.
It is a restless night, and the next day starts early with a squeezed in breakfast/lunch with my good friend Zana. This is a good place to mention that I wouldn’t be in Prishtina without having met this strong and accomplished woman 10 years ago. When we meet, it is always enriching, like two old friends, we always hit it off right where we left off. We drink an espresso outside of my hotel as the city awakes and people start to fill the square. She is a theater director goddess, exhausted from her show the night before in Prizren. She must travel to Albania that afternoon, a grueling drive, to take a test for language proficiency to get into a London program. I am elated she makes time for me. We had thought we would have several days, but because of our mutual busy schedules, and not communicating, we have just 4 hours. She picks Soma Slow food for lunch/brunch. It is perfect. She orders food from her hometown, Gjakova, perfect vegetarian fare – and the dishes just keep coming and coming. We eat on a beautiful warming day in the shade on the on the brick terrace. I gave her the earrings I bought for her and she’s ecstatic. We have a free rolling conversation, and the three or four hours fly by. We vow to do better next time, and to meet in London when she passes the tests.
We are hurried, and yet not. Hurry is for people who think in traditional transactional terms. Zana translates and navigates the cab driver to the pickup spot that she has communicated with Galdon Reçica, the engineer for the recording session. Thank goodness she takes control, as about all I can muster in Albanian is thank you and good morning. At a hectic corner we cram my guitar cases into Galdon’s old car with Ellma Eminajj, a beautiful young singer with electric red hair and a warm smile. I am already feeling this is going to be good. It is unusually hot in Prishtina and everywhere I go I sweat.
We arrive at the Defy Them studio space, housed in an old bomb shelter. Some of the musicians are already there. Mics are in place. We’re going to play in a big open room, live. I have some apprehension as I’m using a borrowed amp and a borrowed guitar. I meet each musician, and my nervousness dissipates as I realize that they are grateful to be there, and all have big hearts. These are my people. Their eyes are honest and true. They are excited to be doing this. Galdon assures me that they are all the best at what they do and I’m counting on that. I have said you have to have at least 10,000 hours and more passion than you have for anything else in the world to achieve bliss with your craft. Lately I have rethought that. Maybe you just need to have an open heart and one note. The only thing for certain is there is no room for egos in this exercise. Focusing on showing off or trying to impress with technical chops is a sure-fire way to dampen the collective nature. I explain some of the concepts behind the project and it’s well received; the vibe is beautiful.
The bomb shelter has no windows and a very ominous 18″ thick metal and concrete door. The aesthetic is a mix of DIY coop energy, state-sponsored professionalism and college dorm room chic. Everyone is exceptionally kind and welcoming. Beer and coffee are free, what more could you want? Galdon is the engineer. A Kosovar who lived in Brooklyn for most of his life. He has put together this wonderful mix of artists. I am humbled. After the session, Galdon tells me he can’t stop listening to the tracks. He cranks them up in his car. He says that these would be great samples for other styles of music. I tell him they are free as for public use as long as they stay in 432 and are attributed to www.activate432.com. This music can move mountains and free souls, it needs to be heard!
The first person I exchange notes with as we are setting up is Gëzim Sadiku. A gentle soul, playing a sharki, an ancient long-necked lute style instrument. He picks out some traditional patterns and I play along on my acoustic guitar. I can tell right away that he is one of those players that can bring to life any sound he imagines. During the sessions, he never misses a note, and brings that genuine Serbo-Croation sound to the session.
To start things off, I explain the concept from my view to the group. “The only rule is to be your authentic self and have fun!” I say. We all make a circle for a group hug and you can feel the positive energy. We ease into playing and I know it is going to be alright.
One of the sessions is a 72 minute marathon the passes by in a blink of an eye. Some of us weep inside with sadness, some overpowering elation. Spontaneous shouts and sings of joy. It is cathartic and cleansing, jubilant and intense. It is determined and passionate and erotic and the room seems to lift from its foundation. When each piece is done there are whoops, hugs and high fives. At some point, Albin Abazi leaves his drums and returns with the mouth piece from his oboe, making beautiful primal sounds.
The musicians and anyone that walks into the room is caught up in the vortex of the most raw and honest music. Our authentic personalities meld. Egos are destroyed. Hearts are lifted. I am so overjoyed.
Midway, Galdon excitedly says, “Keep going, don’t stop!” The others start the groove and determine a key without me immediately following another session. The old “habit” me cries for a break and rest. It is humid, I have sweated through my shirt multiple times and I am wrung like a wet towel. Exhilarated but exhausted. I pick up the electric guitar that Galdon has lent me. I forgot it is tuned to match the chords that Gëzim Sadiku was playing on his sharki. I have absolutely no idea of any pattern or placement of notes. I find sing notes, easily of course, but chords are a different story. The beast moves and I am both proud of the independence of the musicians and the beauty of their playing, and frustrated with this alien I am holding. I can’t tune to standard as I normally would because a ghost took my tuner to teach me a lesson. The heat and lack of water starts to give me a bit of anxiety and I can’t find a way in. Exasperated and hot, I lock eyes with Gresa Broqi, who is living through her cello with unbridled joy and fiery passion. She looks at me and we share eyes and hearts and she nods to say YOU. You can. You are. And I do. She picks me up. We all pick each other up. I find my way back to bliss. Triads and double stops appear. I am in! I AM PLAYING WITHOUT THINKING. It is beautiful.
Gresa is an accomplished, classically trained cello player with a very direct personality. We follow each other’s melody lines without thinking, and lock eyes. My friend Matt who is photographing the session says later “Wow, that was intense.” Yes it was. That means we are doing this right. Matt sits down cross-legged midway through the session and meditates. Bystanders walk in and dance spontaneously. That is how it was. Ancients are speaking through us, habits are falling away. We are flying and floating. This is universal music love. Living a thousand lives in a glance. Gresa is in her young 20’s and has an ancient soul, like an Albanian stone bridge, with green vines and white flowers. I am a contrast; bridge beams, dark, old and weathered, supporting and lifting. In place but moving. The sky above us is the same sky that watched the Ottomans storm Kosovo in 1389. I feel that had we been there to greet them, with our instruments, with this power, the outcome would have been different.
Dardan Blakaj, one of the players the youngest, maybe 20 or so has joined us on percussion and takes the mic for a free form beat box which turns into shades of a call to prayer. An ancient wailing. I join in at the top of my lungs. Mine seems to weave a north American indigenous wail. He has the mic for what seems to me a long time and I make actions to shift the mic back to Ellma, but realize that in his eyes, he is releasing something that he needs to let out. Beautiful. He finishes and hands the mic back and we are off and running again.
The fact that this is taking place in a bomb shelter is both ironic and apropos. Love is exploding in here.
During the performances, there is dancing by the performers and the people that walk into the room. The energy is electric and pushed by Albin’s dynamic drumming and Fatlind’s solid bass playing. Mal Kubati is weaving wonderful synth lines, and I think they would go all night but my ass is tired from a long travel day and a short night, compounded with the heat. Next time I visit Kosovo, I vow to try an all night session. Kosovo is amazing and quickly becoming one of my favorite places in the world.
We take a break to order food and Galdon and Ellma pick it up nearby. It is delicious and just what we need, ushtipka, which is basically cheese and a sausage style meat with yogurt and salad in a large bread wrap. It goes perfectly with the local Peja beer. There is no hurry to the rhythm of creating. We sit outside and feel the breeze and sunshine and get to know each other. How could I have been so lucky to have such an amazing group of musicians? I feel like we’ve know each for years. It is often like this with musicians. This sense of friendship and community is contagious.
We return for another pass and this one takes on more of an American blues feel. I play harmonica and use my resonator guitar in open G. While the other takes have been more universal or had a Balkan feel, this one rocks and everyone is locked in a heavy 4/4.
During first two passes, we I am playing in a gypsy minor style, notes I have never played before. I don’t know where it comes from, but can only attribute it to place, to ghosts. At the open level, the free form channel, I become where I am and who I am playing with.
All in all, the session is magic, and perfectly imperfect. Listening back I am lifted higher and higher. Love.
Links to some of the music is below. My advice is to listen to it in it’s entirety in a safe space without distraction. This is the only way to ride the waves to their highest peaks – to suffer the valleys – to join us in the bliss. It is a meal, with many courses, not a snack. This is a musical conversation with 8 voices. Like any conversation, it ebbs, and flows. Sex is the best metaphor I can find. Peaking with ecstatic explosion and falling into sweaty exhaustion, only to build again with uncontrollable energy. It is that good, and I crave the next opportunity to share this with musicians.
*A “432 harmonic activation” is a session which involves a group of musicians playing spontaneous music on instruments tuned to a 432 hz, A reference, instead of the standard 440 pitch. There are no rules and no pre-set patterns. The intent is to blend the authentic musical personalities into an enlightened collective.
Participants:
Gezim Sadiku (traditional instrument player)
Albin Abazi (drums)
Fatlind Ferati (bass)
Dardan Blakaj (percussions)
Gresa Broqi (cello)
Mal Kubati(synth)
Ellma Eminaj (vocal)
Todd Partridge (guitar)
Galdon Reçica (engineer)
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