Jeremy Dutcher. A celebrated Canadian Indigenous musician known for masterfully blending Wolastoqiyik elements into his music. Set to perform a concert on March 21 at 8 p.m.
“You want to go?” I asked my friend, who was doing math. “Sure thing,” she said. That weary Friday night, both of us were tortured by relentless brainwork and desperately craving something fun. Neither of us knew we would witness one of the most wonderful performances ever at Swarthmore.
As eight o’clock approached, less than half of the concert hall seats were occupied. A great performance always deserves a full house, but the reality usually goes astray with such expectations. Nevertheless, the smaller audience offered Dutcher a special opportunity to resonate with those present personally. Is this a curse or a blessing for the artist?
As my mind meandered, a young man with a full beard and long hair walked towards the piano. He was the definition of an artist. Without a word, he sat down and started playing the piano very softly. A beautiful major chord immediately sprouted from the instrument and flowed around the hall, like the first ray of sunlight awakening plants in a forest. “Oh my god,” I thought, as his chords caressed my soul like the first breeze in spring.
Everything in the concert seemed unconventional. The pianist played with a damper pedal for a soft, muted effect. The drummer used a brush to gently stroke the drum sets, pitting a rustling 4/4 rhythm. The guitarist placed an instrument horizontally on his lap, using a slide to create mysterious reverberations like forest mists. “That’s a lap steel guitar,” my friend whispered. “Musicians often use it in country or indigenous music.” Wow, that’s fun to know.
With the melody progressing, Dutcher sang his first note. His voice was strikingly pure – not in its timbre, but in its emotional intensity and the singer’s complete immersion in the present. He delivered every note firmly and solemnly, as if he was worshiping performance, devoting his whole self to the concert and his culture.
Unlike his performance’s bold and assertive style, Jeremy shyly stuttered into the microphone. Playing a tape of fragmented chants and speeches, he explained to the audience it was an actual recording of his ancestors’ voices 110 years ago. Making music from these recordings, Dutcher’s band weaved beautiful harmonies and contemporary instrumentation into the old fabric of Wolastoqiyik traditions. They awakened real rituals, real sufferings, and real people through these muffled tape sounds, and participated in a distant reality with each performance. Every song was a real ritual, and every melody was a co-creation between him and his ancestors. In this sense, indigenous music to Jeremy is never set and static. It is constantly renewed and redefined every time it is performed. It comes from the past but has real relevance in the present.
But Jeremy’s music means even more than connecting himself to the past; it also breaks the fine line between the spectacle and the spectator, inviting the audience to actively participate in making music, as an artwork and a ritual. “The next song I hope to present is called the Honor Song” said Dutcher quietly near the end of the concert. Silent for a few seconds, Dutcher continued: “And I hope to invite every one of you to stand up. Because when we perform the song in our culture, everybody stands up.”
Every single audience member in the concert hall – professors, students, my friend, and strangers, coming from wildly different backgrounds but sharing this precious moment – stood up, stared at the stage, and waited for the grand ritual to start.
“Thank you,” said Dutcher.
Muffled sounds carrying living memories poured out from the tape. Dutcher, echoing the call from his ancestors, closed his eyes and started chanting with full energy. His voice strained resolutely at the very limits of his vocal range, as if his soul were striving to break free from all suffering and discrimination. Robust drum beats, wild reverberations, and firm double bass rhythms joined his quest, pushing the song to its climax. Paralyzed by utter awe, I felt a deep sense of honor palpitating at the very bottom of my heart, until it sprung up through music to every single corner of time and space. It is Dutcher’s honor. It is also humanity’s honor.
While the concert ended in grand applause, the excitement from that night lingered in my heart. Jeremy’s concert not only channeled me to a vibrant new culture, but also inspired me to consider countless possibilities in cultural advocacy and preservation. As an advocate of traditional Chinese culture, I discovered new ways of rendering its exquisite lyrical poetry, folk tunes, and operas to the contemporary audience, as four great musicians demonstrated the power of music in perpetuating culture over time.
*All accounts and quotations are based on my memory. While they may differ slightly from reality, they still authentically capture the essence of what took place.
