Alaska News

Hitting high notes, creating majestic music for Denali

HOMER -- My first view of the mountain was in July 1981 from the banks of the Talkeetna River. I had arrived fresh off a drive up the Alaska Highway with my acoustic piano in the back of my step van.

After performing as a street musician and pied piper at schools in each of the Lower 48 states, I decided to head north. I was thrilled to be invited by the Talkeetna Historical Society to perform for their annual Moose Dropping Festival. My first gig in Alaska.

Between shows, I would walk down to the end of Main Street, plop down on the sand, lean against a rock and stare at the Alaska Range. I knew the tallest mountain's name -- Mount McKinley -- from my elementary school geography books. I didn't concern myself with the fact that the surrounding national park was named Denali. I spent many hours gazing and taking in the mountain's majesty and its quiet and still power. I decided right there to call Alaska home.

Early this spring, I began to create music for the mountain. At home in Homer, with various photographs I had taken, I measured the distance between mountain peaks and valleys of the Alaska Range. Determining where the contour line of one mountain intersected with the next, I began to compose melodic lines, smooth and rolling or jagged and sharp.

Reverence and kinship

The summit was problematic. I agonized over what would be a true reflection of my awe at seeing North America's tallest peak. I wrote and rewrote, and rewrote again. At wit's end one night and badly needing to stretch my legs, I stepped outside as the wind picked up, and in it I heard a choir of angels singing in a native language. A simple melody quickly emerged, but a new dilemma came with it. What words would be appropriate? I wrote various phrases and combinations of words. I borrowed a copy of the Koyukon Athabaskan Dictionary and attempted to translate my words. It was not easy.

So I contacted Siri Tuttle, associate professor of linguistics at the Alaska Native Language Center in Fairbanks. She explained that most of my ideas were not complicated to translate literally, but that I might not be expressing the same underlying feelings of reverence and kinship that my English words aimed to describe. She suggested I consider a phrase she found in a Koyukon Athabaskan Dictionary: Deenaalee enohk'edot'aanh. It's an eight-syllable phrase that translates to "Denali you are a comfort to my eyes." To complete the lyrics, I included the names Degheeloyee (Alaska Range), Deenaalee Be'ot (Mount Foraker) and Deenaalee (Denali). There is no story line. The name Denali speaks for itself. It is great. It is high.

In May, I asked Kyle Schneider, choir director at Homer High School, if I could talk to his students about what I had learned, bring in my recording equipment and record them singing in Koyukon Athabaskan. When I explained the background of my piece to the choir of 40-plus freshmen through seniors, they got it.

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They understood the importance of respecting the culture, and they sang -- like angels -- from their hearts the words of a language that hopefully will not be forgotten. They understood why there is only one phrase in the Koyukon Athabaskan dictionary that refers to Denali specifically. They sang, "Deenaalee enohk'edot'aanh." Denali you are a comfort to my eyes.

John "Johnny B." Bushell is a composer and performer living in Homer.

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