The Montreal International Jazz Festival once again delivered a dizzying variety of spectacular performances from acclaimed artists around the world between June 25 and July 4. Legendary Inuk artist Tanya Tagaq was a particular highlight on July 3, fearlessly commanding the stage with a transcendent improvised set.
In a fascinatingly visceral performance, Tagak’s vocals shifted from seductive coos to raging screams in evocations of primordial fertility and political fury. While percussionist Jean Martin and cellist Jeffrey Zeigler conjured immersive soundscapes, a memorable collaborator was called up from the audience.
As throat singing is traditionally a playful call-and-response game performed by two women facing each other, Tagaq spontaneously invited 18 year-old Inuk artist Niivi onto the stage to close the show. Greeting Tagaq with a long embrace, Niivi overcame evident nervousness to introduce herself and share a thrilling demonstration of the powerful ancestral practice.
“We had been in contact for a while but I had never met her in person until that moment on stage,” Niivi told the Nation. “I had never seen such a huge crowd before. I felt myself freeze up even though I kept talking. Then she grabbed me and we started throat singing and everything just kind of fell away.”
Since gaining fame after collaborating with Björk 20 years ago, Tagaq has brought Inuit throat singing to the mainstream in several award-winning albums and books. This year, she recorded her seventh album, Saputjiji, and will see her novel Split Tooth produced as a stage play.
While Tagaq only began experimenting with throat singing after receiving a cassette of traditional songs during college in Halifax, Niivi has been throat singing since she was four. When a white elementary school teacher in Kuujjuaq played a video of Tagaq in class, it was a revelation.
“It was the first time I had been exposed to contemporary throat singing with a more alternative approach,” Niivi recalled. “It just blew my mind. She’s very punk. The way she steps into that trance-like state is something I’d like to eventually be able to do.”
Inspired by her father, rock musician Etua Snowball, Niivi played instruments around the house and wrote her first song at age 7. As she delved into rock, punk and metal music, she also practiced throat singing with the Kuujjuaq Youth Group, who performaned at an annual local festival.
When a recording of Niivi’s folk song “No Pride in Genocide” caught the attention of a Montreal punk festival, she decided to throw a band together and fly to the city. Admitting that they were terrible, it nevertheless planted a seed. The band is now finishing work on their debut album, NIVIARSIAK, to be released later this summer.
“We have throat singing on the album but it’s kind of strange because it’s also mixing a full band’s rock sound with punk and metal influences,” said Niivi. “The opening track is a traditional song about the owl, an homage to my great-grandmother whose art form was sewing little owl dolls.”
Jeannie Snowball was a trailblazing Nunavik artist who “accidentally” became an activist after her ookpik (Inuktitut for snowy owl) doll became a government-recognized symbol for the Inuit. Coming from a long line of activists, Niivi said she was taught the importance of “using your voice to make a difference.”
In 2020, Niivi helped her friends Tobi Nashak and Aputi Arnatuinak launch Kuujjuaq’s first Pride festival. While Niivi’s been told it’s not in Inuit culture to be queer, she counters that the Inuit creation story involves “two gay men and eventually a trans woman,” asserting that queerness has existed in Inuit society “since the dawn of time.”
“Every year we do the Pride parade so Inuit youth see that representation and that it’s accessible to them also,” said Niivi. “Even if it’s a slow process, as long as we exist, we’ll be making a difference. There are so many issues in our communities and we have to take all of them on.”
Growing up in the music scene because of her father, Niivi has gained valuable guidance from prominent artists like Elisapie and Beatrice Deer. Launching a tour last summer by contacting “every Inuit-led festival in every Inuit territory,” she said a visit to Greenland was particularly inspiring, noting that their cultural revolution was sparked by rock band Sumé in the 1970s.
“I feel like our culture is this one big puzzle piece that starts to come together once you’re able to connect all these different territories,” Niivi suggested. “Greenland has kept mask dancing and a lot of shamanic practices whereas Nunavik hasn’t but we’ve kept throat singing and Arctic winter games.”
This summer, Niivi is balancing music with helping Cegep preparatory program Nunavik Sivunitsavut develop its curriculum. Entering her third year of Cegep, she said the transition from Nunavik to post-secondary studies exposes an education gap.
Finally meeting Tagaq at Jazzfest was a welcome surprise. While the two had corresponded online, Niivi had never witnessed a live performance. Their craft is an intimate practice, and Niivi was grateful to sing with an artist she greatly admires.
“Tanya has told me she wants to support me as much as she can,” said Niivi. “She’s been one of the most important people in my career. It was exhilarating and I think there has been more people looking for my music.”