Over the Mountain: Folk Country in Bhutan

by jak roehrick ‘25

What is community? The term is a label, much like other adjectives, but it goes far beyond a descriptor. Unlike a word that merely defines a group, such as friend circle or family, community is also a noun. A place, whether physical or not, that exists only out of ideas and experiences that bond people together. This shared place can be felt, communicated, seen, or heard by the individuals that will it into existence. In this sense, community is also a verb, a common place and label that only persists by the will of its own participants. Thus, community can be constructed by anything shared, whether that be physical proximity, a piece of media, a philosophy, or idea. Community also exists in any proximity, from the entire population of Earth down to just two individuals.

Though I have been in many communities both on my own and at William & Mary, one of the most impactful community ties I made was between only one other person and myself. Not only did this sense of shared experience occur in an unexpected place, but also between two seemingly distant people: Me, a 20 year old college student, and Singye, a 34 year old father from Bhutan, a tiny nation deep in the Himalayas.

My hands carried nothing except for the straps on my hiking backpack. Beneath my feet, my boots crunched through the woods, a warm sunshine slicing through the trees. Long shadows met a dashing green on the forest floor, cast by the behemoth Himalayan mountains. The weather was calm, but the trail was rough. Untouched and rugged, the loose dirt remained muddy from the previous day’s storm, but our small team still carried up the incline. Among our group of 10 college students was our professor chaperone, and our national guide, Singye. Around the halfway point we paused for lunch, where we turned fallen tree trunks and boulders into benches. As we ate, the 12 of us shared stories, discussed our experiences studying abroad and cracked jokes. However, more notable was what we listened to along with our break. Through a bluetooth speaker, we played a variety of songs from a folk-country playlist, mainly to give our tree-canopied meal the background of acoustic guitars and soft vocals. As classic as the sound already was, there was another byproduct of the folk tracks: Many Bhutanese people had heard plenty of Western music (especially rock, pop and hip hop), but Singye and I began to speak on just how much he enjoyed classic country. This had been the first time he had listened to artists like Townes Van Zandt and Blaze Foley, yet he commented on how the songs reminded him of the natural world around us.

That’s when it hit me. Here, in a deep forest high in the Himalayas, in one of the most culturally independent countries in the world, two completely different individuals could extract the same emotion and creative meaning out of the same artists. Though we came from completely different worlds and were brought up in polar opposite societies, my guide and I could form a sense of community around the sound of folk-country.

It was over a plate of ema datshi that we first began to share our interpretations of the music. Ema datshi is a plate native to Bhutan, composed of cooked rice, cheese sauce and chilis, all blended together into a soup-like dish. All of these ingredients were natural to the land and locally extracted, similar to the music that accompanied our meal. A blend of roughly mixed guitars, quiet vocals and raw production, the sound of folk aligned itself with nature even in the instrumentation. Unprocessed and localized, folk bears much symbolic resemblance to food: not only is it a blend of natural sounds, but it also provides a sense of community. The hearty meal not only served to feed us, but it acted as a vehicle for us travellers to express our thoughts. A common taste gave us the opportunity for a shared experience, one of the foremost pillars of sense of community. It was this communal feeling around the lunch table that sparked the discussion of music, opening the door for true cross-cultural connection.

As we ate our meals and I spoke to our guide, one of the first songs he commented on was Blaze Foley’s “The Moonlight Song.” Composed of just Texan musician Foley and his guitar, the quick three-minute track is stripped back and simple, yet elegant in the delivery of its lyrical themes. While listening, Singye remarked that it reminded him of how he was raised in his home village. Bhutan is internationally recognized for its dedication to environmentalism, and this approach is notable in the country’s culture as well. For centuries, government officials and communities alike have reinforced the philosophy of coexistence with nature, dedicating thousands of acres of land to national parks, relying on hydroelectric power for energy and leaving swathes of forest untouched. Within this Himalayan nation, the environmentalist philosophy draws its roots to deriving happiness from inside oneself, a condition that can only be fulfilled when one respects the natural world surrounding them.

For the highly Buddhist nation, mindfulness leads to a respect for others and nature and thus, the world responds back with positive results. As such, the Bhutanese view of the western world (and the United States in particular) is a nuanced one. From my many conversations with locals, the common opinion of Americans specifically is that we are intelligent and highly developed, yet can be quite brash or materialistic. This image is only reinforced by our main exports to the country (like branded clothing and snacks) but in particular, the exports of American music. Though meticulously crafted and detailed, much of the pop, rock and hip hop we export around the world does focus on more material values than spiritual, especially when looked at through the lens of a nearly exclusively Buddhist country. However, for Singye, this is what set folk-country apart from many other American artists. While he had heard artists like Bruno Mars and Katy Perry plenty of times, he told me that listening to “The Moonlight Song” was the first time he felt like he could connect to a foreign interpretation of the world. Considering the nature of the song’s lyrics, it is no surprise that he felt so passionately about it. Unpretentious and clear, Blaze Foley describes the small details of the woods he occupies, finding joy in the harmony of the trees. Lines such as, “Moonbeams dance on rain-drenched trees, sparkle for our eyes to see,” describe the woods as a visual symphony, with natural processes occurring together in synchronicity. Furthermore, Foley touches on the idea of nature bringing out appreciation for those around us. In the line, “Laying with the one I love, looking at the moon above, being where we really wanna be,” he gets to the point of true satisfaction. Not a focus on achieving some great accomplishment or materialistic gain, but merely being present in the current moment and around those close to us. Beyond the comforting guitar work, this was my first insight to the power of folk music as an instrument of community. Despite the separation of philosophy, geography, heritage and time period between Blaze and Singye, folk provided a means to disseminate the same beliefs amongst two very different people. Despite the clash on paper, the community between Singye, other folk fans and myself became apparent while merely listening to the music on the hike.

jak roehrick '25

Following this first meal, we continued on our trek. The sun still hung high in the sky, blanketing us in a thick mountain warmth that crawled down the trees. As we ascended, the high pines that occupied a dense forest began shifting into a high plane, opening up wide valley views. Thousands of feet below us sat villages and rice paddies, all connected by a singular paved road. Our ultimate goal was the Kuenzang Drak Monastery, a remote cliffside sanctuary in the eastern section of the country. By the time we had reached the high plains, the monastery came into eyeshot. However, upon climbing the final stairs to the entrance, the words of “The Moonlight Song” once again came into my head. Along the trek, we picked up a distinguished guest: a very, very friendly street dog. The kind animal began to walk along with us at the beginning of the extended hike, and made it all the way to the top of the monastery with us. The whole time, the dog never barked at us, acted aggressively or even attempted to snatch a bite of food. They merely enjoyed our presence, keeping us company for the day-long journey. Despite their age and visibly graying nose, the dog miraculously kept pace with us. Because of their patience and kindness, we eventually nicknamed the dog Guru Padmasambhava (Padma for short) after the revered Buddhist figure, known for laying the building blocks of Bhutan’s formation. Once again, the aspect of folk’s community came back into my head. In a country where animals’ sense of space was regarded in the same way as a human, American folk-country would serve as a vehicle for community. Focus on harmony and enjoying the background aspects of life are conveyed in Blaze Foley’s “The Moonlight Song,” similar to how the driving philosophy of Bhutan does. Community can be realized through any common means, even transcending physical or language barriers.

At the entrance to the monastery, we once again sat to eat food. Though peanut butter crackers and protein bars were a far less traditional snack in Bhutan, it fuelled us to make the plunge into the sanctuary. With our dear friend Padma in tow, we again conversed and discussed the day’s experiences backed by folk-country. With the same playlist on, it was Tia Blake’s cover of “Plastic Jesus” that got Singye and I talking about music once more. In the song, Blake conveys how her faith supports her self confidence and actions, symbolized by a “plastic Jesus” sitting on her car’s dashboard. With lines such as, “I don’t care if it rains or freezes long as I got my plastic Jesus, sittin’ on the dashboard of my car,” Blake feels as though she can accomplish anything in the world with the backing of her faith. Similarly, many of the people in Bhutan share a similar mindset. As stated, Bhutan is a highly devout Buddhist country, with many living as monks/nuns or actively praying for hours a day. Though Buddhist philosophy often diverges strongly from traditional Christianity, the simple lyrics of “Plastic Jesus” convey a different outlook. Singye commented on the music by stating how it was one of the few examples of American music he had heard of describing the positivity in faith, rather than using it for discrimination. By giving credence to the world around us, we can enhance the confidence in our own actions and how we treat others. Respecting the jaw dropping magnitude of nature, no matter if it “rains or freezes” outside, allows us to channel positive energy towards ourselves and thus back at the world around us. In Bhutan, a core belief is viewing the natural world as an extension of oneself. In order to live mindfully, the world must be treated as kindly as one’s own mind. Meditation often occurs in nature or in rooms flooded with natural light, a reinforcement that the outside world, the “Plastic Jesus,’’ is one with the self. Once again, within the stripped back lyrics and instrumentation of folk-country, similarities in philosophy could be shared between two seemingly opposing faiths. Across the world from the pen of the song’s writer, decades after its publication, the respect of nature can be understood. A Christian song conveyed this message to a man raised in a remote, Buddhist country atop the Himalayas, proving that the sense of community created through folk-country can transcend any boundary. After visiting the monastery and praying with the local monks, we began our descent. With the setting sun, we travelled hard and fast to make it to the bottom before nightfall. Along the way, the sounds of the forest returned, a harmonious rhythm of falling water, swaying trees and chirping birds. By the time we reached our bus, the blue shield above us had given way to a gleaming sunset, orange and violet dancing along with the breeze. Settling back into our seats, we were all too exhausted to converse. The hike and conversations had worn us down, and a relaxed yet silent atmosphere descended upon the bus. As such, I put my headphones in to pass the time, and the first song that played gave me one more insight into folk-country’s power of community. Blaze Foley’s “Clay Pigeons” started up instantly, once again greeting me with gentle guitars and vocals. The song feels like a narrative to Foley’s life, describing the bittersweet melancholy of finding one’s own path. From Greyhound stations to running back to Texas, the lyrics serve as the perfect representation of the optimism in the desire to live, to be able to stand back up and tackle the world. Though this experience was more private, “Clay Pigeons” demonstrated to me that I could still relate my travels to Foley’s experience, even halfway across the world. Lines like, “Ride ‘til the sun comes up and down around me ‘bout two or three times, feed the pigeons some clay, turn the night into day,” exemplify the urge to explore and discover, to find something new to experience. As the gorgeous ridges and valleys passed by in the August twilight, I truly felt as though I was my own person, an individual with unique desires and events to witness. However, despite this feeling of independence, the emotion also placed me into a community along with Foley and Singye. To experience new cultures, to see the world as an observer rather than a passerby was our mutual goal. For me, this was to experience the Himalayas in the most authentic way possible. For Singye, it was to show us why he loved his country and college to the degree he did. For Blaze Foley, it was to escape away from the old life and discover new relationships. This is community, the mutual expression of ideas and philosophies on why we choose to push forward.

Folk-country can be a divisive genre. For some, the words and sounds can come off as “cheesy” or “too country” for their taste. However, for me, the genre resembles one of the most clear senses of community and respect for nature out of any form of media. Even in the high plains of Bhutan, a ruggedly independent, spiritually Buddhist and tiny nation, folk-country has the power to communicate its message across culture, time and space. Over the mountain may lay a very different world, but it is one where we can form a sense of community in the lyrics, instrumentation, and message of folk-country.