Under the microscope: “Skjoldmøyan”
By Ånon Egeland
Translated by Lucy Moffatt
Under the microscope: Close readings of Jew’s harp tunes
In Norse literature a skjoldmøy or shield maiden (Norse, “skjaldmœr”) is a young woman who is active in combat and on an equal footing with men. A mystic aura hung over these strong, warlike women even in Norse times, and they seem like a kind of Norwegian parallel to the Amazons of Greek mythology. However, burial finds of women in full combat gear may indicate that the myths were based on living models.
In Setesdal, the memory of these warlike, heathen women survived until the end of the 19 th century. According to what the folklore collector Johannes Skar (1837-1914) wrote about the shield maidens in his book Gamalt or Sætesdal, we can draw the following conclusions:
They were taller and more beautiful than other women.
They came “from the north,” which actually means from the west based on modern orientation.
There were originally seven shield maidens, but only two made it as far as Setesdal.
They played the lurhorn – ram’s horn – and “Skjallmøyslagji” (aka “Skjoldmøyan”) was one of the tunes in their repertoire.
They played so beautifully on Støylehommsnuten peak while a mass was being conducted in Austad Church that the entire congregation deserted both priest and service to go and listen to the shield maidens and their beautiful music. That’s where the story ends, because that kind of un-Christian behaviour could not go unpunished. The neglected priest came out and took his revenge by cursing the rebellious heathen women and turning them to stone.
“Kivlemøyane” – the maidens from Kivle – in Seljord also belongs to this cycle of legends, as do the three ‘sister tunes,’ well known in Setesdal in the version from the Hardanger fiddle player Peter Veum of Fyresdal (1811-1899). Interestingly enough, the first of these three shares core melodic material with “Skjoldmøyslaget”/ ”Skjoldmøyan,” despite the fact that they are in different fiddle tunings – “forkjært” (GCAE) 1 and “trollstilt” (AEAC#) 2 .
This core material serves as the basis for the Jew’s harp version played by Andres K. Rystad (1893-1984), as well as the version presented here, transcribed from a recording of Hallvard T. Bjørgum (1894-1978). He was the father of the renowned fiddler Torleiv H. Bjørgum (1921-1990), and thus the grandfather of the fiddler Hallvard T. Bjørgum (born 1956).
You can listen to the recording here
The NRK archive also contains a programme called “Skjoldmøyslaget” in which the presenter, Håkon Karlsen, meets father and son Bjørgum – Torleiv H. and Hallvard T. – who treat listeners to different versions of the tune. Torleiv’s Jew’s harp version is interesting in that it incorporates more musical material than the version his father played. This is probably due to borrowings from both the fiddle version and the Jew’s harp interpretation of Andres K. Rysstad.
The tune is transcribed from the first to the last note without making any attempt to edit or systematise it for teaching purposes. Transcribing both stroke patterns and stomping in two different systems may make it look alarming. But it is still a good way of showing how the stroke on the Jew’s harp almost never coincides with the stomping. The very last note is the exception.
This kind of syncopated rhythm is found elsewhere in Norway too: it occurs, for example, in one part of the well-known tune “Sevlien”. One unique aspect of the Setesdal tradition is that it has a number of tunes where this syncopated rhythm dominates, often in contrast to a single part where the rhythm is “normal.”
These tunes are prime examples of music that makes a point of “tricking” our powers of perception. They literally burgeon with rhythmic ambiguity, challenging our understanding of where the music’s rhythmical point of gravity actually lies. Is the experienced rhythm displaced, meaning that the foot stomp is “the back beat?” Or is the “back beat” actually “on the beat?” The answer is probably “both at the same time.” The only thing we can say for certain is that in this case – as always – the foot stomp is what guides the dancers. While that makes it a challenge to dance to these tunes, it also offers a different experience – provided the rhythm works the way it’s meant to.
Anders K. Rysstad: Systerslått
(By the way, this track is a brilliant example of Spotify’s “accuracy” and of how the American record company managed to mix up its European geography. Here, Olav Heggland of Setesdal and his legendary recording of “Skjoldmøyslaget” somehow end up becoming Lithuanian!)
