What Did Viking Music Sound Like?

All manner of perspectives, sources, types of evidence, and imaginations have come together over the years to try and answer this one question that has frustrated scholars and enthusiasts alike for generations: what did Viking music sound like?

As a Nordic ethnomusicologist, I have not only been asked this question myself countless times, but have poured an inconceivable amount of hours into researching how others have answered this question over the years as well. I’ve seen scholars fall back on experimental archaeology, comparative musicology to other contemporary music theory systems from Rome and Greece, dogmatic concession to archaeological finds as ultimate truth, and everything in between. But, considering we haven’t discovered anything groundbreaking on the front of Viking music for decades, what do we have to gain from yet another scholar musing on this provocative question? Well, because I want to share a perspective that I believe only an ethnomusicologist could give, and I think this is the perfect question for introducing an ongoing series of Viking musicology videos that I’m planning for the coming months. Think of this as the introduction to that series, that will prepare the ground for more productive conversation going forward.

In short, without any pretense of burying the lead, I think the question, “what did Viking music sound like” is flawed at its core. It implies that Viking music would ever sound like one thing. Think about it: even modern mainstream “Viking music” musicians all seem to fall back on the same old tropes. Frame drum on the strong beat, and minor noodling over a drone. More than the mainstream stuff, the music performed in reenactment spaces also sticks to the scant sources we have from comparative musicology, using remnant tonal systems or chant melodies from neighboring regions. Both of these extremes, the modern fantasy, and the stringent reenactment standards, presuppose Viking music as a singular, homogenous music practice.

Allow me to make a hyperbolic point with a similar question: what does American music sound like? Of course, there are so many differences in cultural condition between 21st century America and Iron Age Scandinavia that the comparison really doesn’t help us much. But what if we pared it back to something more reasonable? What does Scandinavian music sound like today? Amon Amarth? First Aid Kit? Gåte? Swedish House Mafia?

Even then, in the modern mass mediated music industry, it’s still not a fair comparison. But you see the picture I’m trying to paint here, hopefully. So, let’s focus in even further to what might be a more fair comparison that can get us going: what does traditional Scandinavian folk music sound like?

It’s a good starting point. It’s orally transmitted, it’s localized, and it’s consciously cultivated in a way that keeps the tradition intact. At least in these aspects, it shares enough with whatever flow of music practice would have existed in Scandinavia to be a helpful comparison. Even then, Scandinavian folk musicians themselves are already probably chuckling at the fact that there simply is no answer to that question, even in such a localized, insular traditional repertoire, relatively speaking.

Because even traditional folk music is more diverse than most people realize, which I think might also have something to do with people underestimating how large (and difficult to traverse) Scandinavia is. Think I’m overexaggerating? Put on Knut Buen’s Telemarkspel, then Peter Hedlund’s Vägen, representing the fiddle music of Telemark and Uppland respectively. Then, sweeten the deal with Olav Mjelva’s Røros album. Right there, in these three examples of fiddling traditions across three separate regions in Scandinavia, you actually find music that sounds quite distinct from one another. And again, this is only the fiddling tradition, and I purposely picked these albums because they were each released roughly within the same decade of one another. So, while there are some shared traits that avid listeners of traditional fiddling can pick out as Scandinavian, each of these regional styles share as many differences as they do similarities. These differences are exponentially multiplied when you include other instrumental, vocal, or dance traditions.

Things get even more complicated when we consider that, even in the Iron Age, there exists a notable class distinction in music practice. The nobility, with more resources and access to international culture, will have a different daily musical experience than the peasantry in the boonies. But as we read in the Sagas, even Skaldic practice, and the experience of entertainment music in the Jarl’s hall is dependent on regional variation and traveling musicians, so even the music of the nobility shows to be rather diverse. The church is yet another traditional unto itself, with its formal and centralized music notation and pedagogy, compared to the oral tradition of the peasantry. We will be talking about all of this in more detail in the coming series, but for now, what’s important is to understand that music does not merely differ from region to region, but from even classes within the same region.

Archaeology is even still not as helpful as we would hope. Consider the finds we do have from Viking age Scandinavia: the Hedeby rebec, the Novgorod rebec if you include that region in the conversation, the remains of what could have been a lyre from Ribe, the potential lur from the Oseberg ship, a both a bone flute and cow horn from Sweden. Without at all taking away from how cool these finds are, you know what this tells us about Viking age music? Across the entirety of Scandinavia in the Iron Age, we have two fiddles, one lyre, one lur, one flute, and one cow horn. Let’s put this into perspective: In a thousand years, archaeologists go digging through the remains of Florida and find an oboe, a keyboard, a trombone, and a recorder. From these finds, many start to recreate “ancient Floridian music” with these instruments.

Ok, I admit, we’re getting in the weeds here, if not a little ridiculous. But I do want to reiterate in case it got lost in the brush: the archaeological finds and textual sources we have for instruments and music practice in the Viking age are incredibly valuable, and should not be taken for granted. However, at the same time, we need to be real with ourselves about the limitations of relying on such a tiny number of instrument finds from such a large geographical space over a period of several centuries, before we start drawing conclusions. It should go without saying, just because someone had a rebec in the incredibly cosmopolitan center of Hedeby, doesn’t mean that same instrument wouldn’t have been completely foreign to a farmer in Värmland in the same century. Both are Viking age Scandinavians, but both have entirely different conceptions of what music might sound like, and what kinds of instruments can be played.

Which brings me back to my initial point: Viking music absolutely would not have ever sounded like one, homogenous music style. There are simply too many variables in how music practice is transmitted across regions and social classes. Even today, these regional differences can still be incredibly striking, even in an age of mass mediated music in which theoretically, anyone could be listening to the same centralized music industry. For local traditions to demonstrate that level of integrity in the current century with our current omnipresent music industry, can tell you quite a bit about how intact regional differences in music could have been a thousand years ago. If you ever want to kill a few hours, ask a Spelman to explain the differences between regional styles of even just Swedish fiddling alone, and make yourself comfortable.

So, next time you ask yourself what Viking music sounded like, or get caught up in an argument in a comment section, consider the diversity of musical expression at any given point, and in any given region, even today. Considering this, you might find yourself with a different, if not a little more productive perspective on historical music practice, or maybe even thinking more deliberately about why we want Viking music to sound a certain way. It might say more about us than it does about the Vikings.