SMF Review: Anda Union at Ships of the Sea

By Frank Ricci

A GORGEOUS early afternoon seemed perfect for Anda Union, the Inner Mongolian folk ensemble. Many of their songs pay tribute to nature, yet their landlocked roots provided an amusing contrast to Savannah’s Ships of the Sea Museum.

Clad in black Western garb you might expect from a rock band, the seven musicians took the stage. The first bow’s strike on the horsehead fiddle produced unexpected power and warmth, as modern electronics amplified the ancient music’s full, rich, and commanding sound.

After the opening song, the group’s two vocalists joined the tight-knit crew of instrumentalists as Anda Union delivered a performance that bridged ancient traditions with a modern, joyous pulse, leaving the audience spellbound and uplifted.

The setlist was a vibrant tapestry, blending haunting horsehead fiddle melodies, playful mouth harp twangs, and the primal drone of throat-singing. Rooted in Mongolia’s nomadic heritage, Anda Union’s music felt timeless yet relatable —proof of folk music’s universal and utterly global heartbeat.

Their songs grow in intensity, as live performances often do, layering textures and rhythms into a crescendo topped by harmonies that begged to be sung along to. Alas, few in the audience speak the language, but the emotion and connection still resonate clearly.

Anda Union’s nine members — seven instrumentalists, plus vocalists Tsetsegmaa and Biligebaatar — are a marvel of cohesion. The horsehead fiddle, or morin khuur, anchors their sound with a tone that is both cello-like and otherworldly, its mournful beauty threading through nearly every song.

The tovshuur, a two- or three-stringed lute, adds a rustic pluck. Each seemingly rudimentary instrument proves the concept that less is more, with the modern addition of guitar stompboxes for added personality and presence when required.

The aman khuur (mouth harp) injects a quirky, boing-filled edge that draws smiles and adds lightness.

The maodun chaoer, an ancient reed flute, weaves in airy, pastoral notes, and the percussion—steady like a horse’s trot, accelerating to a gallop—grounds it all with hearty beats and crashing cymbals that, like a rock drummer’s flourish, punctuates and underlines transitions with flair.

The vocalists elevate this instrumental richness to another plane. Tsetsegmaa’s voice is a revelation—big, clear, and almost operatic, cutting through the mix with crystalline power.

Biligebaatar, dubbed “The Happy Cowboy” for his horsemanship and infectious exuberance, wields a wide-ranging urtyn duu (long-song) style, his falsetto soaring effortlessly.

Then there’s the throat-singing. A signature of Mongolian music that all members contribute to, it employs layered harmonics from a single breath, creating a virtual duet within one voice. Eerie, mesmerizing, and oddly comforting, it conjures the wind whistling across the steppe.

The pacing was impeccable. Mid-set solos, especially a standout flute performance, put individual talents front and center and gave the audience a breather before the full ensemble roared back.

The band’s connection to nature shone through, not just in sound but in spirit. Introducing one song, Tsetsegmaa declared, “Nature gives us everything,” a sentiment that landed universally, transcending language and faith.

You could hear it in the music: the galloping percussion mimicking hooves, the flute echoing a breeze, the fiddles conjuring vast plains. It’s a soundscape that feels alive, rooted in the earth yet soaring free.

Standout moments abounded, but the penultimate song stole the show. With the lutes set aside, five morin khuurs soared together, their complex harmonies weaving a haunting sonic web that tickled the lobes of the brain where music rarely passes through. It was a sonic feast, dense yet delicate.

The closer, by contrast, was pure raucous joy, with more horse-gallop percussion thundering, cymbals crashing, the buzz of throat-singing voices, and strings in layered harmony. It was the perfect climax, leaving the crowd standing and cheering with appreciation.

The accompanying photo is from Anda Union's performance the previous night at Ships of the Sea Museum.