Dore Stein – Clara Hsu

Moving with Tangents

Dore Stein’s Tangents Radio on KALW (91.7 fm) is a music show. Beginning with American roots music, Tangents takes the listeners on a four-hour global trot every Saturday from 8-midnight. The art of Tangents lies in Dore’s ability to set one piece of music against another, no matter the style and genre, and you find yourself moving from portal to portal seamlessly, sometimes with a surprise, but the transition is always musical. Magic happens not only in the songs but also at the moment between songs. Most of us don’t realize: a piece of music can sound better when “framed” by another. The juxtaposition on Tangents is always improvised (That means Dore doesn’t know what song he’ll play next until the last moment.) Tangents listeners often comment on how they are moved by the show.

Photo credit: Jennifer Cheek.

On Radio

One of the most memorable childhood pastime is listening to the radio. Summer days were spent lying on my father’s big bed. After the news at noon the radio played theme songs of the latest movies, followed by story-telling and Chinese opera excerpts.

At seven-thirty at night our maid would set up the ironing board in the kitchen. I sat on the low stool while she ironed, and together we listened to our favorite radio show, Diary of a Stout-hearted Husband, a comic parody on family life.

My connection with the radio remains, with live-in partner Dore Stein (Tangents Music Radio, KALW), friends Avotcja and Stephen Kent, hosting shows on KPOO and KPFA. Tomorrow my voice will come out of the radio during Jack Foley’s Cover to Cover show (KPFA, 3pm). I had often wondered what was on the other side of that box that I spent so much time with. Now I know, and it still amazes me.

What’s In A Voice

hamed nikpay — Hamed Nikpay at a Tangents party, 2006

I grew up listening to European operas, oratorios and lieder. The classical way of singing, while glorious, eventually lost its attraction on me. I remember attending a spiritual “workshop” in college. The man closed his eyes and hummed a few notes. There was no discernible technique nor did the voice project. He said, “This is spiritual. It comes from the depth of suffering.” And I knew it was the rawness of the human voice that had moved me.

In our house, we receive two to five music CDs a day. Dore cannot audition them fast enough and many sit in boxes and eventually are forgotten. He has his favorites and I have mine. We don’t always agree, and Dore has a much wider taste in music than I do. But we can always agree on the very best, when the soul comes through the voice and moves us.

Our favorites: The Senegalese singer and guitarist Baba Maal, the American born Mexican-Lebanese-Jewish singer Lhasa de Sela, (now deceased), Ravid Kahalani of Yemen Blues and the Iranian singer Hamad Nikpay.

We live in a treasure trove, surrounded by yet to be discovered jewels. It is the luck of the draw when Dore picks out a CD to listen to. But that voice, that voice that possesses the power, that calls to us, remains rare.

Photo by Raymond Van Tassel

Mourny

Never have we heard a cat that mourns. The sound comes from the throat, dry and monotonous, like a little child is about to lose his voice after a long period of crying. In the beginning we suspected the stork might have accidentally dropped a baby in our backyard. But when we went outside to investigate and we couldn’t find anything. Then one morning we looked out the window and saw a big beige and white cat lounging in the bush. It had to be the source of that unusual voice.

Our three cats were protective of their territories. I heard the haunting voice mostly at night, heart-breaking sound of a lonely soul calling out to the universe. We call him back—Mourny, Mourny—.

After many months Mourny no longer ran away at the sight of us and sometimes our cats even shared the sun with him. Mourny came very close to the cat door but failed to have the courage to come inside the house. During the rainy months Dore put a blanket inside a little plastic shelter and we knew he stayed there quite often. The first time Dore put a dish of food outside for Mourny he forgot to take the bowl back. We got raccoons checking into our house instead of our desired guest.

Somehow I don’t hear Mourny’s lament so much anymore. Maybe the occasional feeding, our voices and cat friends are what he needs.

Music Orgy

I enjoy having the house by myself on Saturday nights while Dore does his show, Tangents, at the radio station. I hardly listen to his show. After a long day of teaching I find his selection usually too energetic. All I want is quiet.

We receive three to five CDs in the mail every day. When Dore auditions he puts the music on loud. The sound fills the kitchen and the living room. Escape is difficult, even when I keep my door closed, the pulse of drums and bass seep through.

Sometimes though, his music connected with me on a gut level and would change my state of being. One day I walked into the house to the music of cello and piano. The two instruments were in a most intense dialogue, drawing from each other’s breath, entwining, bemoaning, separating, coming back together, making love, urging the listener, stirring up an emotion that needed immediate fulfillment. I joined the orgy. Pen to paper, poetry flowed out like a third stream.

Photo credit: Raymond Van Tassel