CHRONICLE: Proud psalmodikonist

For the first time, we are celebrating Psalmody Day today, February 8th. Why is that, you might wonder? We have so many other days, so why a Psalmody Day as well? Is it really necessary? Michael Andersson from the Nordic Psalmody Association shares his thoughts on the past, present, and future of the psalmody in a column.

Ten years ago, I found a strange long narrow wooden box at a flea market, a wooden box that looked like it had been some kind of instrument, but in a condition without strings and with a cracked lid. I asked the seller what it was, but he had no idea. Since I was, and am, interested in odd instruments, I bought the box for a few hundred kronor. Once home, I began the work of finding out what it was, and the result came quickly – a psalmodikon. I had never heard of it, let alone heard it played. I knew nothing of its history but became terribly curious to find out all I could. And a whole new world opened up!

150 years ago, the psalmodikon was something everyone knew about. It was important and filled a place and a function in, practically, every Swedish home. At that time, it would be a long time before it was possible to listen to recorded music, on wax cylinder or record. If you wanted to sing and play, you had to do it yourself. But far from everyone could, and far from everyone could afford, to acquire expensive instruments like pianos. And the church constantly kept a watchful eye on which instruments were of the devil's making. For a period, it was the violin; a few years later, it became the accordion. Both were instruments that tempted to dance and sin. The guitar had sinful shapes, as it resembled a woman's body. In response to this came "the box," the psalmodikon. An instrument with strict lines, and with a construction that made it impossible to play in lively dance tempo. It fit perfectly for its time. It fit perfectly for the church. And it was easy to craft your own, even for the poor crofter. The instrument's spread yielded results, and people began to sing again. But, to be honest, it could not produce particularly beautiful tones. Something that could be blamed on the homemade strings. Judging by preserved early recordings and according to older written sources, the tones of the psalmodikon then sounded raw, unpolished, toneless, and creaky. The line to ridicule "the box" was close. The storyteller Vilhälm Nordin (1874–1949) wrote in one of his books: "The thick flies buzzed like psalmodikon strings." A comparison people could relate to. Despite this, the psalmodikon became a dear friend to many. Several have described it as a companion, a security, and a comfort to turn to when the darkness, cold, and silence in Poor Sweden became too pronounced. Something to play on, something to hold in your arms as if it were a child.

Gradually, the psalmodikon would be outcompeted by both the organ and pianos in the churches, and in homes, the hand-cranked gramophone began to disperse the silence. Most instruments ended up on the trash heap or in the wood stove. So, barely 75 years after its heyday, the psalmodikon was almost completely forgotten. Until a few enthusiasts in the mid-1980s began to spread its mission, and interest in the instrument slowly began to awaken again.

In our modern, increasingly secularized time, the psalmodikon is not needed in the way it once was. However, it is needed for other reasons. It is needed to remind us of our own history, it is needed as a symbol to show how people in Sweden lived 200 years ago, in relation to the church, the state, and to each other, and it is needed for us to understand our present. And the psalmodikon and psalmodikon playing are not extinct; nowadays, it is classified as a living cultural heritage. I am proud to be one of all the tradition bearers who today make the name of the psalmodikon seen and known, I am proud that today, on the psalmodikon's own day, I can manifest this instrument by, as was done in the past, standing in a church and leading hymn singing with the help of a now repaired and restored psalmodikon. I am proud to be a psalmodikonist.

A fourfold cheer for the psalmodikon! Long live it! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

Michael Andersson