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t’s a hot, sunny afternoon at the end of July, and there’s a steady stream of visitors in the Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum in Decorah, Iowa. As they round the corner into a brightly painted traditional homestead display, they gather two and three deep in front of two folding tables where Beatrice Hole and Floyd Foslein demonstrate a musical instrument called the psalmodikon. It’s the weekend of Decorah’s annual Nordic Fest, and psalmodikons are part of the ethnic
annual meeting of the Nordic-American Psalmodikonforbundet in Hudson, Wisconsin, up by the Twin Cities. That’s quite a mouthful. But the psalmodikon (pronounced sal-MOWdi-kon) is a monochord, a one-string bowed zither, that Norwegian and Swedish immigrants brought to America in the mid-1800s. And a forbundet (for-BUND-et) is a club or association. Put them together, and you have a Psalmodikonforbundet–like a dulcimer club. Founded in 1996, the NordicAmerican group is sparking a modest folk revival in the upper Midwest, a lot like the revival that has greeted the Appalachian dulcimer. Perhaps more so than with the dulcimer, at least for me, the revival is largely about ethnic heritage. When 19th-century Swedish and Norwegian immigrants came to America, they brought with them a rich heritage of German chorales, hymns and spiritual songs from their own traditions in Foslein, center, shows psalmodikons at Scandinavia. These were Vesterheim collected in new Lutheran heritage they’ve come to celebrate. psalmbooks, or hymnals, in the old They don’t quite know what to make of country (1819 in Sweden and 1838 in it, but they’re enthralled. Norway), and the use of psalmodikons Standing behind the tables, Hole was encouraged by the established state and Foslein play old-fashioned country church so rural congregations could church anthems and Scandinavian learn to sing from the new books in hymns like Faith of Our Fathers and harmony. In Sweden and Norway alike, Children of the Heavenly Father. The books came out in the 1830s and 40s that tempo is restrained, even stately, and showed how to make a psalmodikon and the sound is surprisingly rich, rather play the old chorale melodies on it. like a cello. Between songs, the visitors Especially in Sweden, gospel music was are full of questions. What is it? Did you gaining popularity. In fact, hymnologist Gracia Grindal says American gospel make it? How’d you learn to play it? I’m songs like Shall We Gather at the River in the market for an instrument, and were considered “beloved Swedish Foslein has one he’s willing to sell. But songs” and some of the immigrants he’s busy with the visitors, and they’re were surprised their English-speaking having a wonderful time. So I arrange to meet him in a week’s time at the 2009 neighbors also knew them. So gospel 50 DPN
songbooks were written in psalmodikon tablature, too. In America these diverse traditions blended, along with the mainline English-language denominational hymns of the day, and in time they would give rise to a high quality of artistry as Swedes and Norwegians founded Lutheran synods, publishing houses, and colleges with a cappella choirs that had a profound influence on the overall development of American choral performance. But at first, especially in the 1850s and 60s when large-scale immigration was just beginning, it was quite a struggle to transplant the old-country music in little churches out on the prairie. And that’s where the psalmodikon came in handy. Simply made from materials readily available, psalmodikons were easily played even by pastors who weren’t particularly musical. While they weren’t really folk instruments, they could also be played at home in log cabins and sod houses. Many years later Paul Maurice Glasoe, professor at St. Olaf College and president of the Choral Union of the old Norwegian-American synod, would recall his father’s work in the 1870s with rural choirs in Minnesota. “Father played the [p]salmodikon and by means of it he could grind out the melody–alto, tenor, or bass–to the different groups,” Glasoe said. “And what a thrill it was when two parts could perform–and then all four!” In time the psalmodikons were replaced by reed organs, even in the smallest country churches. And folks in town could afford pianos. Ardith Melloth, who wrote an authoritative account in 1981 for the Swedish Pioneer Historical Quarterly, caught the flavor of the late 1800s when she said, “Like carrying a gold-headed cane, having a piano in the parlor became a status symbol and the old psalmodikon was put in the attic.” So the psalmodikon was all but