Beyond the personal benefits, there’s the unifying power of being part of a collective. “Singing in groups has such a positive effect on people,” Simone continues. “There is this sense of community — you reach a goal together, and when you see that the audience is moved, you realise that it impacts them too.” This sentiment is echoed by Rolf Christen, president of the Bernese Cantonal Yodelling Association. For him, yodelling became an anchor during a difficult life transition 16 years ago. “Singing with my bandmates gave me a welcome distraction and valuable support,” he recalls. “It offered a few hours that took me away from the dreary everyday and provided a sense of belonging when I needed it most.” Similarly, this sense of community is precisely what drew in Mike von Grünigen, a farmer’s son who only took up yodelling at age 50. “I was drawn to it because it felt like something I had been missing for a long time,” he says. “I love the sense of peace it gives me. It helps me reduce stress, reconnect with myself, and bring a bit of joy and passion into every day of my life.”
Back at Le Grand Bellevue, I sink into the lounge’s fireside sofa, nursing my well-worn vocal cords with a velvety hot chocolate. “There is an authenticity to yodelling which is hard to beat,” the hotel’s owner, Daniel Koetse, reflects, “it allows guests to immerse themselves in the soul of the region.” As I watch the shadows stretch across the slopes outside, it occurs to me that there’s a reason these ancient practices – yoga, meditation, yodelling – persist: they work. But for a tradition to stay alive, it must also be shaped for the future, which is precisely what contemporary practitioners like Simone Felber hope to achieve with her contemporary yodelling practice and work alongside the feminist choir Echo vom Eierstock. The tradition is broadening elsewhere, too, notably with Jodlerklub Männertreu Suisse – the first yodelling choir for gay men, who perform under the punchy slogan: Where gays jodeln.
