On paper, the marriage of metal and traditional Mongolian folk music might seem like a gimmicky, messy mash-up of styles. But if Tengger Cavalry founder Nature Ganganbaigal was going out on a limb when he first conceived of this musical fusion, the group’s just-released fifth full-length Die on My Ride showcases how seamlessly the two schools of thought fit together.
The sound of the Mongolian horsehead fiddle (whose traditional name is morin khuur) and the banjo-like tovshuur adapt perfectly to the slashing riffs, unusual harmonies and galloping Maiden-esque rhythms that the New York-based band draws from Western styles, and the controlled distortion of throat singing seems more ominous than the fiercest death growl. Lyrically, the record touches on time-honored themes in metal, like rising up against abuses of power, while invoking the horse — a part of Mongolian culture whose importance is difficult to overstate — as a metaphor for sticking to your guns and going your own way.
Clearly, the strategy is paying off, as the group has been invited to perform at highbrow venues like Lincoln Center and Carnegie Hall. But perhaps more important than that is the connection the music seems to be fostering between American fans and Mongolian traditions.
“A lot of people at the shows know a lot about Mongolian culture,” Ganganbaigal, who goes by the stage name Nature G, tells the Scene by phone. “They even know specific words. Some of them come in Mongolian dress, and some have gone there. There have been horseback lovers too. But our fans have been really respectful.”
One part of the group’s origin story lies in G’s love of metal bands like Slipknot, Dark Funeral, Rammstein and Metallica, an affection that dates back to his middle school years. But another critical moment came in 2009 when G walked into a music store in his native Beijing and heard a morin khuur playing over the PA. He already knew about the instrument — his ancestry is part Chinese and part ethnic Mongolian — but something about the sound caught his ear, and he signed up for lessons. He began disciplined studies of the shaman drum and the tovshuur as well, and started Tengger Cavalry as a bedroom project.
At this time, G had finished an undergraduate degree that he wasn’t too enthused about — “Fuck this shit,” he says of his attitude toward school at the time. But he moved to New York to pursue a degree in film composition at NYU. His passion for his studies was considerably greater than during his previous degree, and he won an award for his work.
Still, he continued building up Tengger Cavalry in his spare time, and he dove even more deeply into folk traditions. Not long after moving to New York, G discovered Mongolian throat singing. As in the music store in Beijing, the sound moved his spirit in a profound way.
“The first time I heard it,” he recalls, “I just felt like I was connecting with forest and grassland. It feels like there’s something bigger than yourself. Living a modern city life, it felt like a part of my soul was yanked out of my body and tossed into the grassland or the mountains. It really made me want to master that skill.”
After graduation, he worked on music for mobile games and documentary films, but eventually decided to focus on Tengger Cavalry full time, and assembled a group. The band’s stop at The East Room on Saturday is part of a cross-country tour behind Die on My Ride that will also take them to Europe at the end of July.
G looks with pride on the blend he and his riding partners have achieved, which brings the vast expanse of the steppe into the hustle of the contemporary world.
“It really took a long time,” he says. “It’s only now, after so many years’ training, I finally feel confident with the outcome.”
Email music@nashvillescene.com
