Francesco Turrisi played his banjo like an oud, partaking of Middle Eastern tonality and phrasing. Rhiannon Giddens‘s voice, strong and sure, floated over the top of that, in a sound that felt American. There were no other sounds, and there didn’t need to be. In the space between their instruments, they bridged thousands of miles, and thousands of years.
“Ten thousand stories, ten thousand songs,” Giddens sang. “Ten thousand worries, ten thousand wrongs.” The lyrics spoke to hardship, but the voice sounded like hope.
The internationally acclaimed duo of Giddens and Turrisi were appearing live from Dublin, Ireland, on Friday as a benefit for Gather New Haven, the new nonprofit that brings together New Haven Farms and the New Haven Land Trust. (Read about that and the organization’s new executive director here.)
Their 40-minute appearance brought out a crowd from New Haven — and all over the world — to show support.
The next song the duo played, “There Is No Other,” was announced as a mission statement of sorts. “That’s our whole thing,” Giddens said. “Our music crosses boundaries, supporting this idea that there is no ‘other.’… The way that we’re different is the same.” It was an instrumental, featuring Giddens on banjo and Turrisi on a frame drum, from which he coaxed bass tones as well as percussive elements.
The next song, Giddens said, “will probably be my calling card” for a while, a condition she accepted. “It’s a good thing to have a calling card.” She noted that her banjo, pitched lower than banjos typically are, was a replica of a banjo from 1858, reaching back to the instrument’s origins in the African-American population, and its origins in West Africa. The song, “At the Purchaser’s Option,” was told from the point of view of a woman trapped in slavery. Giddens had written it several years ago. “Now this song holds different meaning for me,” she said, “because there are so many people trapped in the inequality that we’ve allowed to persist in the world.”
Over a slow and loping groove, she sang: “I’ve got a babe, but shall I keep him? / ‘Twill come the day when I’ll be weepin’ / But how can I love him any less? / This little babe upon my breast?” Her voice, at first plaintive, then reached to its depths for strength. “You can take my body / You can take my bones / You can take my blood / But not my soul.” Its third verse joined past and present, as the voice of the slave could be the voice of workers all over the world today: “Day by day, I work the line,” she sang, “Every minute overtime / Fingers nimble, fingers quick / My fingers bleed to make you rich.”
Without pausing, Giddens riffed on the banjo while Turrisi switched from drum to accordion, and they launched into a haunting rendition of “Wayfaring Stranger.”
The chat window for the show was by now alive with comments. “Still get the same chills hearing that song today than when I first heard it in 2017,” wrote srbozso. “Goosebumps!!!” wrote wastedonthewayside. “You have the most moving voice and I’m so glad y’all share your music! Love this!” wrote AnnieGfromNC — one of the early signs that this concert for Gather New Haven had gathered people from far beyond the Elm City. Tips started coming in as they wrapped up the song.
“Speaking of the 1850s — did I hear someone say they wanted to hear music from the 1850s?” Giddens said half-jokingly. She explained that in the 1850s, much of the music made on banjos was associated with minstrelsy. “It was a tough time for American music,” she said. but “we can’t escape it.” Instead of avoiding it, Giddens and Turrisi were going to confront it, dig into it, reclaim it. Turrisi brought out another drum, this one Iranian. The sound between them felt utterly natural, even as the tune they played was distinctly American, pulled from the first known banjo instruction book in American history.
“This is a wonderful tune,” wrote salpotintirah, as Giddens and Turrisi used the melody’s ascending and descending lines to trade off moments between banjo and drum.
“To round out our unusual instruments today, this is an octave viola, which I call my shoulder cello,” Giddens said. The duo played “Blackest Crow,” one of the first songs she said she learned on the fiddle. It brought on another round of tips. “Loving this and the combinations of instruments. Thanks for the origin stories,” wrote wendymrans.
“Anything that’s being tipped is going to Gather New Haven, so please be generous,” Giddens said as she noticed the tips piling up. “This is how we’re all supporting each other now.”
“I feel like this pandemic is making me go back to my roots,” Giddens said as she returned to the banjo. Now questions from the accompanying chat were getting nerdy. What tunings were they using? (A variety.) Was the banjo’s head plastic or animal skin? (Skin.) Gidden revealed that the cello banjo the two musicians passed between them had once belonged to folklorist and musician Mike Seeger. Turrisi switched to tambourine, an instrument he explained he was on a mission to make people take seriously. In his hands, it was impossible not to.
Now the chat box was filling up with comments from all over. “Saw you in Chicago Oct. ‘19, most incredible experience ever! Love you both and your music beyond words!” wrote Cckc56. “Loved your show when you both came to City Winery in Atlanta in September,” wrote L2vaga. A few others filled in for what they could not do live. “Clap clap,” wrote Jalspector. “Wild applause,” wrote YOOPERANN.
“We’re happy to be contributing our time and money to Gather New Haven.” Giddens said as she smiled, scanning the comments. “We’d love to be actually in your presence, but it is a lovely thing to actually read what you’re saying.”
They were reaching the end of their set. “This is a song I wrote a long time ago, but it keeps gathering meaning as time goes on,” Giddens said. “I was thinking of the climate thing going on, and it’s still going on. How the people who have the least are feeling it the most right now. Then the pandemic happened, and it just keeps going.”
She spoke of the “inequalities laid bare…. Now more than ever, we have to reach out, figuring out ways of supporting each other…. We have to reach out to something bigger than us” — whether that was God, or community, or humanity, or all of the above. “beautiful show OBRIGADO,” wrote cemad1111. “Love from Poland,” wrote GretePooh.
Turrisi, back on accordion, created lush yet quavering chords for a song that sounded like a hymn. “When your path is full of worry / He will see you through / When you feel alone on your journey / He will see you through,” Giddens sang. “When you think the world’s gone crazy / He will see you through / When it looks like the end of days / He’ll surely see you through / All your silver, all your gold / Won’t shine brighter than your soul.”
The octave viola and accordion sounded like a tiny orchestra, a tiny choir, but Gidden’s voice still cut through easily. “Amen,” she sang, and repeated it. “Amen, amen.” The silence at the very end seemed more appropriate than any applause.