Meredith Monk

Somewhere back in 1994, when I still fit size 36, studied phonology and had a rather traditional musical backpack of classical choral and symphonic music, someone gave me two tapes, with the suggestion that, as a linguist, I might be interested in the "funny babbling" that interspersed the music. It was a copy of Atlas, an opera in three parts by Meredith Monk.

It would be too epic to say that that moment changed my life, but Monk's music did knock me off my feet the first time I listened to it. It was unlike anything I'd heard so far, both musically and emotionally. The tape was a copy, Internet not yet widely available, so I had no idea what I was listening to, apart from the idea of traditional opera (which it didn't remotely resembe) and the evocative song titles like "Personal Climate - Future Quest", "Desert tango", and my favorite piece "Agricultural Community", which was my first encounter with asymmetric rhythm.

So, quite unprepared, I suddenly found myself in a world of whooping, screaming, yodling, sighing, crying, whispering, moaning, stammering and talking voices. Really, imagine anything possible with a voice, add anything you deem impossible, and that's what Meredith Monk is about. And there's nothing artificial about it, it's all so natural, so obvious, that you can't help thinking that this is what singing is about, should be about: setting the voice free to do its own thing, to express its owner's own personality, emotion, doubt.


As she says herself: "I work in between the cracks, where the voice starts dancing, where the body starts singing, where theatre becomes cinema".

What attracted me even more, is that there seemed to be a phonology-like system underlying Monk's choice of soundscapes. I don't know whether she did this deliberately, but many of the sound sequences make maximum use of the structural oppositions in, for instance, the vowel diagram (juxtaposing /e/ with /o/, /i/ with /u/). Also, the choice of whether to use words or sounds, seemed to be related to the sincerity of the message that was conveyed - words somehow sounding more insincere than the ecstatic voices set free in their own domain. Of course, one could argue that this is almost inevitable, but still, it added extra interest (and hours spent phonologically analysing her music) for me.

After the first surprise, the tapes travelled along with me, surviving five boyfriends, three rounds of moving house, my transition from student to career woman; and somehow, they kept surfacing at those important moments in my life. I'd play them, and still find new things. Until they finally gave out, and I decided to buy a proper, legal CD-box. And read the accompanying booklet. And found out that what happened to me and my tapes, was exactly what the opera was about.

Back in 2006, I had the opportunity to see and hear Meredith Monk in Hamburg, a very memorable experience. I still remember her entering the stage: tiny, but incredibly powerful. She started to sing Wa-lie-oh; after the first few notes, about half the people in my row got up and left. After the second song, some more, but those who stayed, almost tore the roof down. I'm not sure whether it was my mind playing tricks, but it was almost like there were lights and colours around her on the black backdrop everytime she started singing, it was that intense.

After the concert, I did something quite un-Maaike like: I posted at the back entrance. Then walked away, telling myself not to act so adolescent. Then returned and waited some more, until she came out. I spent quite a while talking to her about her music, the effect it had on the audience that night. And I got to thank her for, well, basically, what I just wrote down. Very special indeed.

I've included quite a lot of Monk songs in my Last.fm playlist in the right sidebar. On Ubuweb, there's a documentary on Meredith Monk and her work. Here's the first part: