Jamming in the Central Highlands of Vietnam

This past week in Pleiku was such a wildly beautiful experience.

About 7 years ago, I met Tih Ro Cham, a well-known Jarai musician and instrument builder, when we collaborated at Seaphony with more than 40 artists from across Vietnam. The thing I always remembered about Tih wasn’t even the music first. It was his smile. The man radiates joy when he plays. Meanwhile, when I play cello, I usually look like I’m mourning a lost civilization or about to burst into tears. I think I’ve smiled maybe 3 times total while performing.

This trip, I was joined by Meg Okura, the incredible jazz violinist/composer who came to Vietnam specifically to study the đàn k’ni, a Jarai instrument that you bow while shaping the sound with your mouth at the same time, which honestly feels like witchcraft the first time you see it.

Tih generously invited us to his home, where we jammed, shared lunch, and learned more about Jarai music and culture. Later that night, we went to a cồng chiêng performance and somehow ended up getting pulled into the circle to play with the musicians.

The vibes were so good that we ended up putting together an impromptu concert at Paksong Farmstay. Just pure improvisation and connection. Cello, violin, đàn k’ni, t’rưng, gongs, and whatever else found its way into the music.

After that concert, I got connected with the wonderful Bahnar musician Kaly Tran, and we drove out to his home in Kon Tum where we jammed with his whole family.

Honestly, it was one of those weeks that reminds you music is still one of the fastest ways humans know how to become family.

Also, for the sake of balance and humility, I did have to go get a tetanus shot after stepping on a nail because apparently my role in every cultural exchange is “clumsy schmuck accidentally creating minor medical situations.” But I survived, used my Vietnamese, and was out of the hospital in under 30 minutes, which honestly felt like its own miracle