Tiffany Ayalik hasn’t had to wear a mask when she throat sings—not yet—but she can imagine it would come with its own set of problems.
“It would definitely muffle the sound a lot,” she says. “But we’ve never had to be in a situation [before] where that safety measure was needed.”
Ayalik, along with her sister Kayley Inuksuk MacKay, make up the Yellowknife-based musical duo PIQSIQ, who practice the traditional art of katajjaq in their songs.
Katajjaq, more widely known as Inuit throat singing, traditionally sees two women or girls stand face-to-face emitting different guttural tones and breathing noises. It’s a friendly back-and-forth, which requires focus and the ability to hear the other person clearly. But that’s difficult to do in a face mask, or over Zoom.
“Good luck trying to do katajjaq with somebody over the internet,” says MacKay.
Even as Inuit throat singing has seen a resurgence in recent years, the COVID-19 pandemic has altered the way Inuit are practicing their traditional art.
Health officials have warned that the forced exhalations from singing can spread large respiratory droplets—the primary transmission route for the novel coronavirus—causing many musical activities like choirs and singing classes to be barred for the time being.
At a Nunavut music camp where 16-year-old Minnie Akeeagok teaches, throat-singing lessons were moved outside for the summer to ensure airflow and proper physical distancing. But that also comes with challenges, says Akeeagok. At a mandatory distance of two metres apart, it’s hard to pick up on the intricate and minuscule details one makes during their song.
“When you’re kind of apart you don’t really hear the breathing as much and it’s a little bit quieter to hear,” Akeeagok says.
To make things worse, some days the wind would pick up, causing students to struggle even more to hear their partners.
Akeeagok still performs indoors with her sister at home, which she says turns out a lot better because “the noises echo within the walls so then you’re able to hear your partner better, no matter the distance.”
For throat singers currently not in the same social bubble, or even the same geographical area as their partner, practicing katajjaq means dealing with a host of technical challenges.
Musical performances in the pandemic have largely been banished to the electronic domain of video-sharing sites like Zoom. But video calls have a knack for cutting out, distorting audio, or just not being able to handle the sheer volume or range of an artist.
PIQSIQ have experienced some of these issues while hosting online throat-singing workshops during the past several months.
“The best advice we could give people is to record their own voice into their phone, and then just to play it back and sing to it as if it was their throat-singing partner,” says MacKay. “Because there’s not the opportunity to just go out and sing with whoever if you’re not in the same bubble.”
Although they’re together now, at the beginning of the pandemic, PIQSIQ was separated for a period of time and couldn’t practice together.
“I know a lot of throat singers are separated from their partners and other people they love to sing with,” says Ayalik. “So, we’re super grateful that we’re in the same bubble.”
While COVID-19 has made it very difficult for throat singers to practice their art, Ayalik says at the end of the day, there is a silver lining. This new digital age has the ability to connect people of all ages, regardless of location.
The workshops PIQSIQ hosted saw Inuit throat singers and community members of varying ages from across the country come together over video calls to learn and practice.
“I’ve never heard of a throat singing workshop happening across Canada, you know, especially urban Inuit having access to an instant community of other throat singers,” Ayalik says. “I feel like the pandemic has made us rethink connection and what that looks like. All of a sudden, things that might have felt impossible before COVID are now possible.”
