Nadya Kwandibens
Tagaq is an outspoken advocate for indigenous women’s rights.
Madison musician Phoebe Frenette remembers how she felt after seeing acclaimed Inuk throat singer Tanya Tagaq perform in Madison in 2015. “I just thought her music was so powerful,” Frenette says. “The way she weaves and evokes this wildness and the way she builds it in her music is something that I fell in love with.” But not everybody in the audience was similarly enchanted. “Some people were definitely not feeling it,” Frenette recalls. “They were like, ‘Wow, my brain just exploded, and I need to leave right now.’”
A winner of Canada’s prestigious Polaris Prize in 2014, Tagaq first gained fame for her collaborations with Björk and is often compared to the experimental Icelandic singer. But Björk is downright tame in comparison. Think of it this way: If Kenny G’s smooth saxophone stylings epitomize the easy-listening genre, then Tagaq’s intense, guttural, punk-inflected howl-growling is perhaps something for a more advanced musical palate. That’s not to say that it’s overly intellectual — quite the opposite, actually. “It’s almost like an experience,” Frenette says. “It’s visceral.”
Tagaq returns to Madison on Oct. 7 for a performance at the UW Memorial Union’s Shannon Hall. Joining her onstage is a community choir of 35 Madison-area vocalists, including Frenette. The choir, which happens to be majority women, will meet for a four-hour rehearsal the night before the show, where they’ll learn the concert repertoire, hand signals and how to make the otherworldly sounds Tagaq’s performances are known for.
Ali Mikulyuk is a limnologist at UW-Madison and another choir member. One of Mikulyuk’s collaborators sent her a YouTube link to a live performance of Tagaq at the 2017 Polaris Music Prize Gala, thinking Mikulyuk would appreciate the songs’ environmental message. “The instant I heard it I was totally blown away and completely in love,” Mikulyuk says. “My jaw was on the floor. I hadn’t heard anybody make those kinds of noises before, especially a female-bodied person.”
Tagac has been an outspoken champion of indigenous rights, and indigenous women’s rights in particular. Her most recent album, Retribution, is her most political work yet, exploring themes like climate change and sexual assault.
Beth Ann Workmaster, another choir member, recalls reading an interview with Tagaq about her activism. Workmaster felt connected with the message and looked up videos of Tagaq’s performances. “I had a strong reaction, especially after reading about her,” Workmaster says. “She’s unapologetic and just very forthright; she doesn’t sugarcoat it. That’s exactly what the world needs right now.”
Workmaster, a horticulture researcher at UW-Madison, hasn’t performed with a musical ensemble since high school. Despite her lack of experience, she had a “gut feeling” she needed to be part of Tagaq’s music and message.
“I liked the idea of being able to help her in her presentation and conveyance of the messages that she’s wanting to transmit through her music,” Workmaster says. And she expects the experience of letting loose and emitting strange, wild sounds on stage with a group will be transformative. “By participating in something like this, it sort of helps unlock something inside of us,” she says. “Maybe it will help embolden or empower people to try and be as frank and forthright as Tagaq.”
