tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53431219202444475082024-03-17T19:51:18.059-07:00Michel's perspectiveVaried. Related to my interests (including reggae, Rastafari, society, international relations, culture a.o.), this blog can contain essays, reviews, travel accounts, commentaries, don't know yet...
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/MichelsPerspectiveBlogWebsiteReviews">http://www.facebook.com/MichelsPerspectiveBlogWebsiteReviews</a></p>Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.comBlogger166125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-11247154652920870392024-03-02T08:20:00.000-08:002024-03-17T19:50:45.547-07:00Afro-Venezuelan music: a preliminary studyThe African Diaspora as a result of a tragic centuries-long history of colonialism, slavery, exploitation, and discrimination is a significant historical fact for several reasons. Knowledge about it is in my opinion crucial to understand the present world. Economically, it is less known than it should be that slavery and colonial gains in the British colonial empire - including the Caribbean - in fact helped finance the first Industrial Revolution in Britain, since the mid-18th c., and spreading to wider Europe. Birmingham, UK, thus became for instance the world’s very first “industrial city”. <p>
That industrial revolution spread since the later 18th c. to continental Europe, but sooner to some places than to others: Belgium, Germany, France, Netherlands, northern Italy, for a large part industrialized.. <p>
It reached on the other hand some other main colonial powers, Spain and Portugal, much later and less. Even today, as a country, Spain is much less and limitedly industrialized than e.g. Britain or Germany. Some “pockets” of industrialization in Catalonia, Basque country, or Madrid aside, Spain remained since then economically behind other European nations. The same applies to Portugal, with industrialization mainly limited to main cities Lisbon and Porto. <p>
<b>COLONIAL EMPIRES</b><p>
Yet, Spain (and Portugal) had of course once vast colonial empires as well, or as bad, as Britain and France, with similar brutal exploitation and slavery in what is now Latin America. The “blood money” gained at the cost of enslaved Africans, was – historians explain – spent only less efficiently in both Portugal and Spain, mostly on luxuries, or expanding the wealth of already wealthy families, with less wider economic investments. <p>
Portugal was the first European country enslaving Africans on a larger scale, though there were precursors by Arabs, serving as a kind of model. Even during the Moorish (Islamic) period in Spain and Portugal (8th c.-15th c.) – known as a relatively enlightened period – sub-Saharan Africans in Iberia were often the slaves or servants of lighter-skinned Arabs or Berbers (or Iberians converted to Islam). <p>
The “discovery” of Christopher Columbus (at the time a Portuguese citizen, of Genoese origin) in 1492, of American lands in the name of the Kingdom of Spain – that in turn claimed them - started Spain’s colonialism, and in fact broader Europe’s. <p>
<b>IBERIAN COLONIES</b><p>
Like Britain, Spain thus has a long colonial past, with much African enslavement, thus helping to shape cynically this African Diaspora. <p>
A difference of Iberian slavery systems with British (and Dutch) slavery systems, was the less modernized, or efficient, “industrial” nature of them: less specialized. While still inherently dehumanizing, Iberian slave systems were said to be also a bit less "harsh" (with a few more protective "rights" for slaves) when compared to stricter British or Dutch slavery systems. Nonetheless, enslaved Africans were also forcibly brought throughout the whole of Latin America, to most Spanish colonies. Often this was to “societies with slavery”, rather than to specialized “plantation slavery societies” as e.g. colonies like Jamaica, Haiti, St Vincent, or Barbados, where the majority population even became enslaved Africans. <p>
Even then, people of African descent can be found throughout Latin America, in quite significant numbers, even if minorities. US scholar Henry Louis Gates, jr. made a series of interesting documentaries about Black in Latin America, highlighting this, and often persisting discrimination and inequality, even in nominally “multiracial” or “mixed” societies like Brazil, Cuba, the Dominican Republic, or Peru. <p>
<b>MUSIC</b><p>
The African Diaspora thus results from a tragic history, and includes persisting historical inequalities in several Latin American countries. On the positive side there is survival, also culturally. <p>
Many Black music genres have become internationally spread and known by now, both as a result of Anglo-Saxon slavery: from the US: Blues, Jazz, Gospel and off-shoots Soul, Funk, etc. Then, from the British Caribbean e.g. Reggae, Calypso. <p>
Yet also, “Afro-Latin” music genres also became quite international and influential. Large, former Portuguese colony Brazil is known as the country with most people of African descent outside of the African continent, and gave the world Samba, derived Bossa Nova (largely mixing elements of Samba and Jazz), and some other genres, while Cuba – one of the Spanish colonies with most people of African descent – is musically the roots of most of what we know as Salsa, while also Afro-Cuban Rumba and Son have become quite well-known internationally by now. <p>
Outside of Cuba, also Merengue and Bachata from the Dominican Republic (with evident African retentions and roots) became internationally known, and also Afro-Colombian Cumbia has spread by now well beyond Colombia(ns) as well. <p>
I know all this, and often listened to these music genres my whole life, and even play now this music myself as a musician and composer, occasionally. As for other fans and lovers of Black music or “African Diaspora music”, the music helped shape my life in a beautiful way, as beautiful culture and music, albeit resulting from a tragic past. <p>
Blues and Jazz certainly gained fans of all races, also in Europe, the same applies to Hip-hop, Funk, and Reggae. For the latter, the international fame of Bob Marley, helped spread the genre of Reggae. <p>
Afro-Latin music remained – due to the language barrier – a bit more restricted to Spanish and Portuguese speakers (though there are many Salsa fans outside it too, of course), but widely spread across countries. Salsa and related Cuban music has had a strong influence throughout Latin America. <p>
What we know as ‘Salsa’ music is in fact for at least 70% Afro-Cuban music (Son-based, Rumba-influenced), with Afro-Puerto Rican and Afro-Dominican elements, added among Latino migrants in the US (first the New York area). <p>
Still, you have quite substantial “Salsa scenes” throughout non-Iberian Europe and the US and Canada as well, whereas artists like the Buena Vista Social Club or Juan Luis Guerra helped spread Spanish Caribbean music genres like Son or Merengue, outside of just the “Latin music scenes” . <p>
There were a few international Samba, Bossa Nova, or Cumbia (La Colegiala, notably) hits in the international “mainstream”. <p>
<b>VENEZUELA?</b> <p>
This made me wonder, though.. what about Venezuela? We don’t hear much about Venezuelan music genres in Europe, or even the “Latin” world. <p>
This applied to me personally as well. More focused on Afro-Cuban music, I still knew quite something about Afro-Dominican, Afro-Brazilian and Afro-Colombian music as well, albeit broadly. What I knew, I tried to use – e.g. rhythmically - in several of my compositions and live patterns, fused at times with other influences. <p>
The term “Joropo” - for presumably the best known Venezuelan genre - was on the other hand, until recently, unknown to me. I read something about Gaita music in Venezuela in a book about world music, but somehow I changed my attention to other music genres, in other countries. <p>
My mother – who had several Latin American friends – had an album – a long-play vinyl disk - of Billo’s Caracas Boys. I liked to play this album – some groovy rhythms and dynamic singing – and assumed at that time that it represented “Caracas” (capital of Venezuela) music. Later (when I learned about the musical Cuban influences in Latin America), I found out that the Billo (lead singer) in question – real name: Luis Frómeta - was actually from the Dominican Republic, influenced by Cuban genres, but also by Merengue from his native Dominican Republic. He just was more or less “stuck” in Caracas, Venezuela. Literally, as he could not return to the Dominican Republic because dictator Trujillo banned him.. for changing the band name from Santo Domingo Jazz Band to Billo’s Caracas Boys. Trujillo saw this as an insult and prohibited Billo from returning to the Dominican Republic.. Strange but true story, and a weird dictator: exiled because of a band name change.. <p>
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Billo’s Caracas Boys made good, danceable music, with certainly talent there, but the Billo’s songs I heard were hardly representative of Venezuelan indigenous, own music, as it represented more Cuban, Dominican, and some Colombian (Cumbia) influences, in a Caracas context. <p>
I began to think about this more also, because I know some Venezuelan musicians in Amsterdam, the Netherlands, where I live. I even played with them as musician, and they at times infused the jam sessions with “Afro-Latin” sounding music (Salsa, Cumbia, Samba, or otherwise). <p>
I noticed the Cuban influences in what they played, but also Colombian ones. Somewhat simplistically I imagined that Venezuela, as bordering Colombia, might have music genres that resemble some Colombian ones. Upon asking Miguel Padrón, a Venezuelan percussionist I know, also active in Amsterdam, he responded with something insightful. <p>
Miguel explained how there is quite a rich musical history in Venezuela itself, with interesting genres, also with African influences, and from a percussion perspective (we shared that percussion passion), with different drums, etc. It was, he pointed out, only less known internationally, because Venezuelans tended to “travel” or “migrate” less in recent history. There was simply less need to, because of the “oil”, the petroleum industry, simply said, and a resulting more profitable economy. Probably unequally distributed and ending up mostly in privileged pockets, but still making the economy in general relatively stronger, than e.g. the ones of Colombia, or the Dominican Republic. Less Venezuelans needed then to migrate abroad, to e.g. the US, and therefore neither could spread their culture and music. An interesting explanation. <p>
Indeed, Venezuelan music genres like Joropo or Gaita, are even by their very names, not very much known, outside - or even within - the “Latin music scene”. As said: because Venezuelans up to recently, migrated less. <p>
Less known, but – of course! – not per se less interesting. I will therefore focus on this own traditional and popular Venezuelan music, especially with African influences, in the remainder of this post. <p>
The differences with music from also former Spanish colonies nearby (Afro-Colombian, or Afro-Cuban music) is interesting as part of that analysis, I think. <p>
<b>FACTS AND FIGURES</b><p>
First some facts and figures, as needed context. Though perhaps not in quite the high numbers as neighboring Colombia or Cuba, also Venezuela received an influx of enslaved Africans, mostly for cocoa and coffee plantations as in surrounding areas. These concentrated a bit in certain parts of Venezuela, like the Miranda state in the coastal North of Venezuela (around Caracas city), and around the Maracaibo lake, in Western Venezuela. Some went to inland (Llanos area) indigo plantations. <p>
Wikipedia says that Africans came from different parts of Africa (as in other colonies) and numbered a total of about 100.000 brought to Venezuela (in comparison: to Cuba a total of over 700.000 enslaved Africans were transported over time). <p>
Venezuela has today around 30 million inhabitants. Of these around 9% claim significant African heritage (some say somewhat more), while over 65% of Venezuelans are considered Mestizo (mixed Spanish/Amerindian), and about 20% White/European.<p>
Still, so while around 9% of all Venezuelans – that would be close to 3 million persons - claim main African heritage, the country’s population (as in surrounding areas) is overall very racially mixed: many combine even European, Amerindian, and African ancestry, so precise figures are difficult to ascertain. <p>
The cultural and musical influence is certainly there, however. <p>
<b>JOROPO</b><p>
I mentioned the funny word “Joropo” a few times now. It is the name of a genre from Venezuela’s interior central Llanos (high plains) region, characterized by semi-dry tropical grassland, and comparable to Savanna landscapes elsewhere. That’s where Joropo the music and dance genre originated, apparently among people with a “cowboy”-type of living, mostly of Mestizo descent (mixed European and indigenous), but also with some Africans in the mixture. Joropo is string-instrument dominated, with the small guitar called “cuatro” often leading, including further at times a bass, mandolin-likes “bandolas” a harp, but also maracas (shakers) and sometimes a drum or cajon. <p>
The Joropo, known even as “national music of Venezuela, is rhythmically loosely based on Spanish examples, such as the Fandango, while also South Spanish/Flamenco-like influences are noticeable in the melismatic singing. <p>
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<p>
On the other hand, the rhythmic and shaker-instrument flow – and the ways the string-instruments are played – rhythmically – allow polyrhythm, showing all in all Amerindian as well as African influences. <p>
<b>MARACAIBO LAKE REGION</b><p>
The Gaita music from the western Maracaibo lake region, the state Zulia – therefore it is also known as Gaita Zuliana, – mixes likewise broadly European, indigenous, and African influences, but the balance – so to speak – tipping more to African influences than in Joropo. The small but broad double-sided Tambora drum (also found in Dominican Merengue) is for instance common in most Gaita, while also shakers and other percussion (such as a metal scraper) further add rhythmic and polyrhythmic texture. Gaita as genre relates to Christmas celebrations, and funnily a Spanish-type of rubbing drum (like the Cuica: with a stick attached to the skin being pulled) is also used in it. Venezuelan musicologists recognize African musical and spiritual retentions from the Ashanti (from Ghana) in this region, but also from Dahomey (the Benin region). <p>
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More purely African musical genres are found in the Maracaibo lake region in western Venezuela as well, especially South of the lake and city of Maracaibo. These include the 'Chimbánguele' genre, with mostly drums and African-style call-and-response vocals. The drums are interesting. Most used are about 7 drums called Cumaco or Mina drums. The models were probably from the Mina people, from what is now Benin (Fon Ewe speaking peoples), explaining why similar drum types and musical characteristics are found in Haiti, and, well, Benin. They are played mostly with stick and one hand, also found in the Benin region. Less common in Yorubaland (East of Dahomey, now Nigeria), and descended Afro-Cuban musical forms (there more played by hands).. An interesting difference: more sticks are used in the drumming in Afro-Venezuelan than in Afro-Cuban or Afro-Brazilian music.
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<p>
<b>MIRANDA STATE (AND AROUND)</b> <p>
I say broadly ‘Afro-Venezuelan’, because other Afro-Venezuelan genres I have not mentioned yet use sticks too for drumming, such as those found in the central-coastal Barlovento region in Miranda state: with relatively many people of African descent. A region not far from the capital Caracas. <p>
Tall, quite thin, cylindrical drums, with slight similarities to the conic Ashiko drums, but thinner and taller, are known as “culo e’ puya”, and are found in this Barlovento region. Similar tall, but with small diameter of skin, drums, are found among Jamaican Maroons.. Also broader and shorter Tambora-like drums are found in genres in Barlovento as Fulia. While some differences in drum types with the western Maracaibo region (and similarities), they are often similarly played with stick and one hand. <p>
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Some more pure Congo-influenced styles in the state of Miranda and bordering coastal states like Carabobo (a funny state name, probably to some Spanish-speakers) in Venezuela use more hand drumming, such as the Sangueo: this includes hand drumming on the skin of a larger drum one sits on, with sticks hitting the side (similar to also Congo-influenced Kumina in Jamaica). <p>
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The enslaved Africans brought to this coastal Barlovento region came more relatively often from Bantu-speaking regions (Congo, Angola), leaving their musical heritage, but also the stick-played cylindrical Mina/Cumaco drums are found there, and mentioned larger drums sat upon, combined with cuatro guitar, other string instruments, and shakers. These more “bass” drums are played with both bare hands. Both the rhythmic, “heartbeat-like” bass patterns, as the type of drum and playing style, show these Congo influences, also found elsewhere in the African diaspora (Kumina in Jamaica, parts of Cuba and Brazil). <p>
These genres in the Barlovento region – often related to festivals – Parranda, and the more purely African Luango, show mainly Congo, but also some Yoruba, influences. Yet, with some drums and aspects shared with the (part) Afro-Venezuelan music in the Maracaibo region (with more Benin and Ashanti influences, musically and spiritually). Some rhythmical differences, relating to different African origins, are interesting to notice: more lower “repeated heartbeats” from central (Congo) Africa (oversimplified, of course), and the longer "semi-melodic" patterns from the Benin culture and Ghana region (again: oversimplified). <p>
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They all share recurring sub-Saharan African features like polyrhythm and call-and-response (also in singing), but with different accents and drums. <p>
The Congo and Yoruba influences (in coastal Venezuela) are also found in other Spanish colonies (Cuba) and in Brazil, whereas the Benin influence causes similarities with the music in Haiti, and the Ashanti influence with Jamaican or Surinamese Maroon music (and a bit with Puerto Rican Bomba, or Afro-Peruvian Pacific Coast music. <p>
Finally, the interesting genre ‘Quitiplás’ should be mentioned, also in the Barlovento/Miranda region. This is played with solely thick Bamboo sticks, and arose once when drums were banned by colonial policies, as (portable) replacements. Bamboo sticks are dropped on ground, as well as slammed together in Quitiplás, creating polyrhythm and cross-rhythm in the African tradition. <p>
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<p>
Interesting, lesser known African diaspora connections, and beautiful survivals of African heritage, or as academically known: African retentions. Even watered-down in Joropo, more African but mixed with other influences (similar to Colombian Cumbia), but in some regions with more African influences. <p>
<b>CONCLUSIONS</b><p>
As a preliminary study – to term it academically – I did not go into all or full detail of all Afro-Venezuelan music. I restricted myself to indigenous, locally developed music genres, not “imported” ones (even if reworked in a Venezuelan way). Calypso from nearby Trinidad even reached Venezuela, I read, and I already mentioned the strong influence of Salsa, and Cuban music, on Venezuela, with Oscar D’León being Venezuela’s best known international Salsa star. <p>
I however wanted to get an idea of the distinctiveness of Afro-Venezuelan music within the Americas, its uniqueness. At the same time study inevitable parallels with Afro-American genres elsehwhere. <p>
I can conclude that there are unique aspects of Afro-Venezuelan music genres. This includes especially the instrumentation, with own type of drums. While some similarities with drums elsewhere in Latin America and the Caribbean, they are not “quite” the same. The most unique is the very tall/long, yet small-diametered and thin, ‘culo e’ puya drum’. <p>
What in my judgement is most distinctive within the region, is the way most drums are played, most commonly with stick and hand: stick in one hand, and the other bare on skin. This is more common in Venezuela than elsewhere, for drums. The sticks on drum cases or sides, probably of Congo origins, can be found elsewhere (Jamaica, Cuba, Haiti, Brazil), the stick-hand playing to a lesser degree. Afro-Cuban drumming is mostly bare hands-based, as is most Afro-Brazilian, and other parts (Jamaica, Haiti), though it occurs in Afro-Surinamese music. <p>
It (stick-hand combination) is found in parts of Africa too, so is not necessarily (or totally) an adaptation to Venezuela. <p>
The latter is the case with the Bamboo sticks-played polyrhythmic music called Quitiplás, relating to colonial bans, and bamboo growing by then in Venezuela, while originally Asian. <p>
The rhythmic structures, patterns, and musical pieces, are in some ways unique, yet share more similarities with other Afro-American genres. The cuatro –small guitar – can be compared to the small Tres guitar combining with percussion in some Cuban Son and Dominican and Mexican genres. Parranda, Gaita, and Joropo – as string instrument-led but with some African influences too – have unique song structures, related to Christmas or other festivities, in the Venezuelan context. More akin to music in Colombia, the Amerindian/indigenous influences, mixed in with European/Spanish and African ones, in e.g. Joropo, are nonetheless an unique mix, mixed uniquely.. you dig?, haha, in Venezuela. <p>
The more (relatively) purely African genres like Chimbánguele, Luango, Sangueo in different regions of Venezuela (central coastal and Maracaibo regions) follow general patterns of clave-based “forest” Africa music: call-and-response (in singing), poly-rhythms (several rhythms at once, on several drums and percussion instruments), and the idea of invocation of spirits, surviving amid or behind Catholicism. These are found in the whole of Afro-America, especially in Latin America, where “forest Africa” slaves, from less-islamicized areas (Southern Nigeria, Cameroon, Congo, Angola) were more common. <p>
The “swing” aspect in some African cultures originate more from what can be called Griot Africa, or Sahel Africa: the Guinea, Mali, and Senegambia regions, sources of slaves for British and US slavers (and to lesser degrees French, Portuguese, and Spanish). This “swing” and other “griot” characteristics of the US Blues from the Mississippi region clearly show these origins in Sahel/Mali/Guinea, Mande-speaking parts of Africa, with Islamic influences and own string instruments (like the kora), less found more to the south in forest Africa (Yorubaland, South-Benin, and South-Ghana, Congo, and elsewhere). <p>
Musical characteristics of more purely African Afro-Venezuelan genres are therefore evidently shared with Afro-Cuban or Afro-Colombian ones, yet.. with an own twist, of course. Playing styles (more often with stick on drum skin) and patterns became unique to the genres in Venezuela. <p>
The way Venezuelan speak the Spanish language has own accents, some more similar to Caribbean Spanish (like the Caracas region), some more to the Colombian accents. Own accents of the Spanish language also influences, of course, how sung music comes across. In Cuban Spanish there is a Congo intonation, while in Peru and around a Amerindian, Inca intonation. In Colombia – the influence of the Basque (Northern Spanish) accent – more “pronounced” - is more stronger, elsewhere of the South Spanish (Andalusian) or Canary Islands variant of Spanish (in Caribbean Spanish, for instance). In some not uninteresting way, this all also affects type of musicality. <p>
My overall conclusion (and lesson learned) would be that Afro-Venezuelan music (and culture) stands on its own within the African Diaspora – with own creations and distinct genres - , yet with several cultural parallels with other parts of especially Spanish America, related to origins within Africa of the enslaved Africans. It remained well alive today, also in popular Venezuelan music, alongside Joropo or foreign (Latin) genres.<p>
As already said, having "travelled" or "migrated" less - thus less internationally known than other "Afro-Latin" genres - but nice, danceable genres as well, representing in their own way beautiful examples of cultural survival and creativity, within the wider African Diaspora.
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Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-63493530100567342782024-02-01T21:44:00.000-08:002024-02-04T07:31:06.105-08:00Net mensen en perspectiefJe kunt het gerust een “delicaat” thema noemen, in ieder geval een “beladen” thema: het Midden Oosten en Israël daarbinnen. <p>
<b>OPGROEIEND</b><p>
Opgroeiend in Nederland, en het onderwijssysteem in Nederland, en ook de media, volgend, krijg je al jong beelden daarover mee. Ik had sinds kind al een interesse in andere landen, en zocht informatie over Afrika of andere gebieden op in de openbare bibliotheek, zodat er wel een soort balans in aandacht ontstond in mijn geval. Mijn ouders (vader Italiaans, moeder uit Spanje), bepaalden ook deels mijn geografische interesse, en maakten het wat breder. <p>
Desalniettemin was er zover ik mij herinner altijd relatief veel aandacht voor Israël in het nieuws en journaal.. Latere politieke machinaties van de VS of andere Westerse machten eisten ook onze aandacht op in de richting van elders in het Midden Oosten, met name Irak en Iran. <p>
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Vanwege, zegt men, het schuldgevoel van Europa over de Holocaust was er ook veel aandacht in het onderwijs en de media over de Holocaust, de Tweede Wereldoorlog, het Joodse volk, en de staat Israël, hoewel die opvallend genoeg - hoewel frequent - ook vaak oppervlakkig bleef. <p>
Ik kon dat eerlijk gezegd wel begrijpen, hoewel ik bezwaren bleef houden (zelfs als kind al) tegen de beperkte aandacht voor gebieden op de aarde die mijn interesse hadden gewekt (soms zelfs via muziek of een goed boek..of vriendinnen van mijn moeder), zoals in Afrika en Latijns-Amerika. Ook daar ontstond wel een balans toen de Apartheid in Zuid-Afrika een tijd wat meer aandacht kreeg, zoals in het nieuws. <p>
<b>VATBAAR</b><p>
Terugkijkend ben ik nooit – zelfs niet als kind – een “vatbaar” iemand geweest. Ook niet vatbaar voor gekleurd (“biased” in het Engels) of “propaganda” nieuws.. als iets op bijv. televisie leugenachtigs was voelde ik het meestal wel ergens aan. Ik onderzocht zelf ook graag dingen, dat scheelt. Ik had een kritische, analytische geest. <p>
Toch.., bij maar genoeg herhaling en “drammerigheid” raakte ook ik weleens beïnvloedt of van slag. Op mijn basisschool en middelbare school (beide – ooit – van katholieke signatuur, met nog wat resten ervan) was er aandacht voor de Tweede Wereldoorlog, met – eerlijk is eerlijk – voldoende aandacht voor de Jodenvervolging en Holocaust, en het onmenselijke Nazi-beleid. Wel was de rol van het verzet in Nederland wat groter voorgesteld in het geheel. Ik twijfelde ook toen, maar het beeld dat ik kreeg was dat toen de Duitsers onder het Nazi-bewind Nederland binnen vielen in 1940, alle Nederlanders meteen massaal in opstand kwamen. Toegegeven, het werd ook weer niet zo gesteld, maar de suggestie werd sterk gewekt. De waarheid is wat anders, weten we nu. Er was wat verzet van dappere mensen, maar vooral veel angst en lafheid – zelfs deels meegaandheid -, zoals vaker onder bezettingen. <p>
<b>GERELATIVEERD</b><p>
Ook dat werd gelukkig in het onderwijs zelf gerelativeerd. Nadat ik eerst het beeld kreeg van Nederlands massaal slachtofferschap, maar toch verzet, tegen Duitsers, relativeerden leraren die ik ook had, en die echt geschiedenis hadden bestudeerd, dit al in een vroeg stadium. Ze legden uit dat het verzet eerder uitzonderlijk was, en de behandeling van Nederlanders door de Nazi’s relatief mild was, vergeleken met bijv. Polen, omdat Nederlanders een “Germaans broedervolk” volgens de Nazi-leer waren. <p>
Een andere (geschiedenis)lerares die ik me als leuk herinner, een blonde Groningse die goed kon vertellen,op de middelbare school in Hoofddorp, haalde mijn laatste twijfel weg, met het wrange: “na de oorlog heeft iedereen in het verzet gezeten”.. Tijdens de Duitse bezetting viel dat helaas mee.. Of eigenlijk tegen.. <p>
Latere historische bronnen bevestigden inderdaad dat Duitse invallende soldaten instructies van hogere Nazi’s kregen om zich wat rustiger en milder op te stellen tegenover de mede-Germanen de Nederlanders, of in ieder geval (niet altijd succesvol) die schijn op te houden. Het bleef een bezettende macht. <p>
Nederlanders waren toen relatief meegaand en hadden een gezagsgetrouwe, calvinistische traditie. Deze wisten de Nazi’s in hun voordeel uit te buiten door relatief veel Joden te kunnen opsporen en deporteren in Nederland, zelfs uit een stad als Amsterdam, met toen veel Joden, en zichzelf als stad toen al “dwars” en eigenzinnig vindend. Een pijnlijke episode in Nederland en Amsterdam, ook al kwam het meestal niet door diep racistisch antisemitisme en moordzucht onder gewone Nederlanders – hoewel dat Germaanse verwantschap (en superioriteit!) idee bij sommige Nederlanders (zoals NSB-ers) wel bestond –, maar toch vaker door, wel, laffe gezagsgetrouwheid. Er bestond iets van latent antisemitisme in Nederland, ook in Amsterdam onder niet-Joden, ondanks het relatief tolerante imago, met name flauwe grappen over vermeende geldzucht of onbetrouwbaarheid van Joden, dat wel, maar dat had je in meer landen. <p>
<b>OUDERS</b><p>
Die relativering kwam dus vanzelf wel. Soms kom je de waarheid mondjesmaat te weten. In mijn geval speelden de landen waar mijn ouders vandaan kwamen ook een rol: een Noord-Italiaanse vader, en Zuid-Spaanse moeder. Ik wist dat de geschiedenis van Italië en Spanje ook verbonden waren aan het fascisme, en voelde mij daar wat onprettig bij, als al jong open en multicultureel iemand. Daarnaast geloofde ik toen nog dat Nederland (niet alleen Joden) massaal slachtoffer was van en in verzet ging tegen Duitse Nazi’s, en ik daardoor uit “foutere” landen kwam. Onzin, achteraf bekeken. <p>
Mijn moeder was duidelijk links en progressief en anti-Franco (hoewel ze niet graag lang over politiek praatte). Ik denk dat ze teveel humor had en van het leven hield om teveel met politiek – zeker niet partijpolitiek - bezig te zijn, maar als ze er wat over zei, was het meestal pro-vrijheid “linksig”. Eigenlijk net als ik nu.. “can’t fight genetics”, haha<p>
Mussolini, de Italiaanse uitvinder van het fascisme, werd ook nooit positief besproken, ook niet door mijn vader. Hij herinnerde zich van de laatste jaren van het fascisme in Italië (toen hij kind was) dat er een nare, strenge sfeer heerste, veel soldaten op straat, en dat hij de fascistische groet moest geven op school, aan leraren. Niet lang daarna zette echter de democratie in, in Italië, - en economische groei -, en probeerden de Italianen te doen alsof er niets gebeurd was. <p>
In Spanje bleef er een fascistoïde dictatuur onder generaal Franco tot 1975. Franco verbond zich wat losjes aan Hitler en Mussolini, en hun militaire hulp hielp hem uiteindelijk in 1939 aan de macht, maar hij opereerde wat strategischer en “slimmer” door zich ook weer niet te direct aan hen te verbinden, en toch een beetje diensten te verlenen aan geallieerde landen als de VS .. om zo dus niet meteen met zijn fascistische collega’s elders in Europa onder te gaan. Zo overleefde hij de Tweede Wereldoorlog: door zich er buiten weten te houden.. <p>
Binnenlands in Spanje, mengde Franco aspecten van Mussoliniaans fascisme met oerconservatieve Spaanse katholieke tradities, waardoor hij een breder deel van conservatief Spanje koest hield dat niet wist wat fascisme was, zogezegd, mogelijk mede geholpen door anti-communistische, en pro-regime propaganda. En, uiteraard, zoals in elke dictatuur, een repressie-apparaat: veel soldaten en politie op straat, censuur, en rechten ontnemen aan burgers: tegen de overheid kon je weinig beginnen. <p>
Dat verklaart mede het eigenlijk wel schokkende feit dat mijn moeder er pas achter kwam dat die Holocaust (inclusief concentratiekampen) had plaats gevonden toen ze rond 1966 naar Nederland kwam. Spanje onder Franco onderwees dat niet. Hitler was een voormalige bondgenoot, zal een reden zijn. Er was ook weer niet een verering van Nazisme of (direct) anti-semitisme in het Spaanse onderwijs toen: thema’s waren eerder beperkt en binnenlands gericht (nationalistisch, maar niet echt een rassenleer). Het antisemitisme bestond in Spanje ook, en uitte het zich in handelsland Nederland in vooroordelen over vermeende geldzucht van Joden, in Spanje vooral in de aloude mythe onder Christenen/katholieken dat “de Joden Jezus hadden vermoord”.. Domme onzin, natuurlijk: Jezus was uiteraard Jood onder Joden.. Verraden door zijn eigen mensen, eerder.. <p>
Heel af en toe werd het wel pervers: mijn moeder vertelde dat in het staatsnieuws voor films in bioscopen in Spanje (rond de verjaar- of sterfdag van Hitler of Mussolini) ooit te zien was dat Franco als katholiek in een kerk een zegen uitsprak voor Hitler en Mussolini. Later zag ze in hoe absurd en immoreel dat was. <p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdx1QoZ634eb22oMsU61zTLP9nIAdC-_zi9FVX76ORkzTRcw8ViGusuGA3fr2rqQyUYCQWMVv5fa_P9dDWjBKG3TCVPDBUEBszHTnAb5i8g2-QnhmmWHUQdLE-HjqxemFn8tHbBqQNzn1kUezfa9ks8elAkPYRDx6Gr5B5YrkQxlrN073GZ33hmiZalfk/s720/yo%20ma%20pa%20piscina.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdx1QoZ634eb22oMsU61zTLP9nIAdC-_zi9FVX76ORkzTRcw8ViGusuGA3fr2rqQyUYCQWMVv5fa_P9dDWjBKG3TCVPDBUEBszHTnAb5i8g2-QnhmmWHUQdLE-HjqxemFn8tHbBqQNzn1kUezfa9ks8elAkPYRDx6Gr5B5YrkQxlrN073GZ33hmiZalfk/s320/yo%20ma%20pa%20piscina.jpg"/></a></div> <p>
(<i>foto boven: ik als begin-tiener met mij ouders in Andalusië, Spanje, rond eind 1980s</i>).<p>
Spanjaarden werden toen zoveel mogelijk dom gehouden, en die namen Hitler en Mussolini waren voor velen onder hen vage namen uit buitenland en historie: net als je nu tegen Nederlanders Hindenburg of Jaruzelski noemt. Schandalige, ideologische geschiedvervalsing uiteraard, maar veel verder ging die aandacht niet. Franco poogde Spanje in zijn eigen ideologische, rechts-conservatieve wereld op te sluiten. Een nationale wereld die uiteraard voordelig was voor de “powers that be” in het land, de staat, maar ook (regime-steunende) werkgevers en grote bedrijven, grootgrondbezitters, en de andere rijken, die in zo’n dictatuur (met rechteloze arbeiders) makkelijker mensen konden uitbuiten. Mijn moeder “voelde” dat, vertelde ze. Dat noemen we ook wel “onderdrukking”. <p>
Als “linkse tante” was mijn moeder later voorspelbaar kritisch over de Israëlische bezetting van Palestijns gebied, maar zag dat – zoals ze vaker deed – vooral in termen van rijk tegen arm. Op andere punten (positie van de vrouw met name) was ze echter weer kritisch over aspecten van de Islam, maar dat was ze ook over het katholicisme. <p>
<b>LUYENDIJK</b><p>
Ik vertel dit allemaal, “where I come from” zeg maar, omdat ik met dit verleden in mijn hoofd, pas een interessant boek heb gelezen, relevant voor dit thema: door voormalig journalist/correspondent in het Midden Oosten (w.o. Israël) Joris Luyendijk. Luyendijk beschreef zijn ervaringen in het Midden Oosten in het goed leesbare boek ‘Het zijn net mensen’, eerst uitgegeven in 2006. <p>
Die ervaringen waren met name van 1998 tot 2003. De titel geeft al een beetje aan dat hij aandacht heeft over perspectief en vooroordelen bij een Westerse (Nederlandse) journalist als hij. <p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji48HA8OMnkkIXUV0K4m2N55_wrU1RRi-cWHn-LLj8IleXII5R8QHd3fMCyy9cOty3CMz4DM8njY1wF4ktPgfaLXl7ihvcMvhyBeJvC4AcanazASbVLGa1nxRznUIMRQC2XF6tWoZHYovL4sTDrsbfcdqfw1uPvdoV9ZHqDLxzkB0QSPUiQwsdFNLlThs/s896/Het%20zijn%20net%20mensen-Luyendijk.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="896" data-original-width="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji48HA8OMnkkIXUV0K4m2N55_wrU1RRi-cWHn-LLj8IleXII5R8QHd3fMCyy9cOty3CMz4DM8njY1wF4ktPgfaLXl7ihvcMvhyBeJvC4AcanazASbVLGa1nxRznUIMRQC2XF6tWoZHYovL4sTDrsbfcdqfw1uPvdoV9ZHqDLxzkB0QSPUiQwsdFNLlThs/s320/Het%20zijn%20net%20mensen-Luyendijk.jpg"/></a></div>
<p>
Ik zag de schrijver Joris Luyendijk ook weleens op televisie. Het was iemand die goed en prettig relativerend kon vertellen (vooral over de Arabische wereld), en ook als presentator van VPRO Zomergasten (in 2006 en 2007) dat ik regelmatig keek, vond ik hem veelal ook geslaagd. Aan dit boek ‘Het zijn net mensen’ was ik echter tot voor kort niet toegekomen. <p>
Het Israël-Palestina conflict en andere problemen in het Midden-Oosten spelen anno 2024 uiteraard nog steeds – hoewel recentelijk tijdelijk concurrerend met die rare “covid psychose” tussen 2020 en 2023. <p>
Vanaf met name 2022 mochten andere thema’s weer meer prioriteit krijgen, en daar zaten helaas ook dramatische ontwikkelingen bij. Geografisch werden deels de oude specialiteiten weer hervat (zoals Israël), naast bijvoorbeeld Oekraïne, en de luchtaanval op ziekenhuis in Gaza (door Israël bezet Palestijns gebied) leidde eind 2023 tot veel verontwaardiging. <p>
<b>CORRESPONDENTSCHAP</b><p>
Luyendijk beschrijft zijn ervaringen van de periode 1998 tot 2003, toen hij de Arabische wereld “coverde” als correspondent, of een deel ervan, voor de Volkskrant en NRC, en de televisie. Zijn standplaatsen waren eerst Caïro in Egypte – waar hij al eerder voor zijn sociaal-wetenschappelijke studie (antropologie) verbleef -, en daarna Beiroet en Oost-Jeruzalem. Hij richtte zich dus eerst op Egypte en de Arabische wereld, later op Israël, en aan het eind van zijn correspondentschap op Irak, binnengevallen door de VS. <p>
Als sociale wetenschapper van buiten de journalistiek was Luyendijk verbaasd – veelal onaangenaam verrast – door die journalistiek, i.c. de werkwijzen. De moeilijkheid ervan in Arabische dictaturen, en de afhankelijkheid van gestructureerde, internationale nieuwsfilters en stroomlijning. <p>
Hij legt goed uit in dit boek dat in de Arabische dictaturen met sterke, bijna totalitaire repressie, vrije nieuwsgaring, of gewoon de eerlijke mening van mensen vragen, moeilijk werd gemaakt. Dit noodde bijvoorbeeld tot anoniem maken van geciteerde bronnen, om mensen niet in problemen te brengen met staatsagenten en geheime diensten. Dit maakte achtergrondartikelen ook een uitdaging vol afgeleide informatie, legt Luyendijk boeiend uit. Beeldend beschrijft hij - in meer dan een opzicht -moeizame gesprekken. <p>
Het woord “perspectief” is voor dit boek erg belangrijk, wat al blijkt uit de titel Het Zijn Net Mensen. Zijn ervaringen in Egypte en elders botsten vaak met simplistische stereotypen die in het Westen bestonden over de Arabische wereld (eerst ook bij Luyendijk zelf), vaak overigens gevoed door partijdige – of beperkte – media. Dit betrof niet alleen politiek, maar ook cultuur en het dagelijkse leven. <p>
De Arabische wereld is intern veel gevarieerder dan mensen denken, dat ten eerste. Verder: de aanwezigheid van “humor” onder Arabieren, moppen over anderen uit een bepaalde streek, maar ook zelfspot, ontbraken niet, en evenmin andere speelse flexibiliteit. Dit leek hem te verbazen. <p>
<b>MANIPULATIE</b><p>
Het heeft deels met cultureel onbegrip – of vooroordelen - te maken, maar ook met partijdigheid en gestuurde belangen. Propaganda-apparaten die nieuws naar hun eigen voordeel kleuren waren er aan beide kanten, vanuit die dictaturen, maar ook bij “democratische” Westerse media. De ene anti-Amerikaans/-Westers (of –Israël), de ander pro-Amerikaans/-Westers (of –Israël), heel grof samengevat. <p>
Vanuit deze wisselwerking tussen cultureel onbegrip, gebrek aan kennis over de geschiedenis van de regio (en van conflicten), en mediasturing/manipulatie, ontstond dan een beeld in de Westerse media, ook in de Nederlandse en bij het Nederlandse publiek. <p>
Joris Luyendijk beschrijft hoe hij dat beeld, met moeite en beperkingen, probeerde bij te sturen met zijn stukken en bijdragen richten de werkelijke situatie onder Arabieren en in Israël. <p>
Bij de gestuurde, “gelikte”, en geoliede propaganda of PR-machines om de journalistiek te “informeren” – en eigenlijk te binden – van de Israëlische autoriteiten, en later de VS/het Pentagon (bij de inval in Irak), staken schril af de amateuristische pogingen onder Palestijnen, en helemaal de loze, voorspelbare anti-Westerse propaganda van ondemocratische, onderdrukkende Arabische regimes, of nog erger, maar marginaler, anti-Joodse scheldpartijen, "rants", of beschuldigingen, met zowel oude economische als oude religieuze antisemitische ideeën op herhaling, maar nu door Arabieren. <p>
Zelfs als Palestijnen in bezette gebieden toch echt vooral het slachtoffer waren en de onderliggende partij, kwam dat leed vooral op beeldgerichte televisie, PR-technisch slecht over. Het Arabische taboe op openbaar kwetsbaarheid en zwakte tonen (cultureel beperkt tot privé-sfeer), wordt in Europa, sinds ik schat zo in de hippie-tijd en 1970s (en “praatgroepen”, sociale academies) -, minder begrepen in modern Europa, waardoor het beeld van gevoelloze, Joden-hatende fanatici er soms onterecht stand houdt. Dictatoriale trekken bij Palestijnse leiders en de Hamas, bemoeilijken ook de vrije nieuwsgaring en meningsuiting, wat Luyendijk al eerder ook al in Arabische dictaturen, in nog extremere mate, merkte. <p>
Duidelijk een cultureel en contextueel verschil, maar uitgebuit vanwege partijdigheid, en de pro-Israël (en pro-Westen) focus in ook Nederlandse media kon Luyendijk niet ontkennen. Joodse en Israëlische persvoorlichters kenden de Europese cultuur beter, en konden beter inspelen op Westerse karaktertrekken om hun kant van het verhaal te bevoordelen. Serene, rustige begrafenissen en rouwprocessen – met beperkte hysterie. Wat meer genuanceerde, of althans schijnbaar redelijk geuite, verontwaardiging of bezwaren, van toch ook Europeser lijkende Joden, leidde makkelijker tot identificatie bij Europeanen. <p>
Luyendijk leerde hierover – de meerdere “filters” - tussen het echte nieuws en gekleurde perspectieven en belangen - gaandeweg steeds beter, en daarvan doet dit boek boeiend verslag, alsmede over zijn toegenomen begrip over wat leven onder zo’n dictatuur en bezetting in de praktijk nu echt inhoudt, ook voor gewone Arabieren. Veel angst en omkoping in dictaturen, onder andere. Veel onduidelijkheid en verwarring ook, en ook zelfbeperking. Die zelfbeperking volgend op angst leidt ook psychologisch tot allerlei neurosen of stoornissen als ontkenning of vluchtgedrag, en negatief afreageren op anderen, projectie, etcetera. <p>
Dat kun je zo kil medicaliseren en pathologiseren. Mooier is het - en dat doet Luyendijk toch ook in het boek -, om dat gewoon als een al te menselijke reactie te zien op onrecht, onderdrukking, terreur, of oorlog. Mogelijk vanuit een andere cultuur die we niet meteen begrijpen, een armoediger samenleving, en een andere, complexe geschiedenis, die soms moeilijk uit te leggen is… maar van mensen als jij en ik.. Zonder bij voorbaat een kant te kiezen. <p>
<b>AFGESTOMPT</b><p>
Luyendijk gaf aan dat hij deze correspondentenperiode afsloot omdat hij merkte “afgestompt” te raken te midden van gevolgen van oorlog, bezetting, conflicten en terreur. <p>
Inderdaad een van de uitdagingen in het leven van ieder persoon: niet afgestompt raken. Niet de nieuwsgierigheid en empathie verliezen, meestal gepaard gaand met een grauwer gebruik van zintuigen, en een uitgeschakeld gevoel. Die afstomping voorkom je denk ik door je bezig te houden met positieve en mooie dingen, wat moeilijker wordt, immers, omgeven door negatieve en lelijke dingen als oorlog, geweld, gebrek, haat, en terreurdreiging. <p>
Luyendijk was dat wijselijk redelijk voor, en kon zich blijkbaar de luxe van stoppen met zijn baan veroorloven, in die positie, en ook als iemand met “7 vinkjes” voor maatschappelijk succes, zoals hijzelf in een later boek schreef (Zeven Vinkjes). Die 7 vinkjes zijnde, wit, autochtoon, man, hetero, hoog opgeleid met hoog-opgeleide ouders, en nog wat meer (Randstad, ABN-sprekend).. geprivilegieerd dus. Wat ikzelf wel als goede graadmeter van privilege in een samenleving zie is of je zelf “wilt” stoppen met ergens te werken, of dat je ergens “moet” stoppen met werken. Onmacht dus. Verwant hieraan definieerde James Brown “soul” (zowel een muziekgenre, als kwaliteit in alle zwarte muziek) als the word “can’t”.. <p>
Luyendijk wilde en kon makkelijk weg vanuit dat 7 vinkjes-privilege, denkelijk voor iets beters elders (later schreef hij over de financiële wereld in het “wall street” van Europa: de London City), maar het leek mij een begrijpelijke keuze, zoals hij vertelt over de gewenning die afstomping werd, en die nooit goed is.. <p>
<b>REFLECTIE</b><p>
Luyendijk maakte de manipulatie van nieuws en “filters” ervoor duidelijk, ook in praktische zin, alsmede de belangen die er speelden. Mijn inschatting is dat het (het verhulde eigenbelang en de verhulde propaganda) sindsdien niet verbeterd of zelfs alleen maar erger is geworden in het zelfverklaarde vrije Westen, zoals de recente covid-hype liet zien, mede door toenemende machtsconcentratie in de media, en voortdurende ongelijke economische en militaire macht . <p>
De vraag drong zich na het lezen van dit boek aan mij op, daar ik mij zelf eerder in de stuk als “nooit erg vatbaar” beschreef.. Ik denk althans van mijzelf dat ik een goede intuïtie voor leugenachtigheid heb, ook qua propaganda of nieuws. Mogelijk borstklopperij of mijn eigen ego strelend, en herinner ik mij opzettelijk vooral die keren dat mijn intuïtie bevestigd werd. <p>
De kritische geluiden tegen de Israëlische onderdrukking van Palestijnen kende ik van Linkse kringen, soms ook in mijn nabije omgeving, maar ook de angst voor Islamitisch terreur. Misschien bevat een wat abstracte, maar simpele “rijk tegen arm” verklaring – zoals mijn moeder die gaf – meer wijsheid dan ik dacht. Luyendijk beschreef hoe veel geld hebben (Israël, VS, Europa) ook uitgebreide, professionele mediamanipulatie veel beter faciliteert, inclusief toegang. <p>
De arm-rijk verklaring lijkt wat “klassenstrijd/Marxistisch”-achtig maar relativeert daarom juist het culturele ongemak dat de Arabische cultuur en de Islam soms oproepen, zoals de macho waarden, de positie van de vrouw, hysterie (je kunt ook vriendelijker zeggen: warmbloediger of temperamentvoller), en agressie en geweld. Deels ook bij mij, geef ik toe. Ik probeer dat te relativeren middels economische en vooral onderwijsverschillen, maar ook psychologische kennis die ik mettertijd opdeed. <p>
Agressief pratende mensen die “stoer” doen, schelden, en gewelddadige bedreigingen uiten – of zelfs alleen maar druk/”hysterisch” zijn, doen inderdaad “stoer”, maar zijn ook vaak “in paniek”, “wanhopig”, en gepijnigd door trauma’s door onderdrukking en geweld, die zo overschreeuwd worden. Ze zitten “vast”. Dat kan, in ieder geval. Iemand zich zo “intimiderend” gedragend kan uiteraard even goed vol met haat en rancune zitten, zonder goede reden, maar uit onzekerheid of negatieve bewijsdrang zo zijn, als een soort gangster of crimineel. Een blik in de ogen en waarneming van houding is veelal genoeg, om te merken of iemand, zoals ik in een Reggae-liedje (Nah Tarry Ya, van Admiral Tibet) hoorde, is “ you a man of peace, or a man of war (?)..”<p>
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Wat ik mede van mijn moeder’s verhalen, levend onder de Franco-dictatuur, begreep was inderdaad het gevoel van “rechteloosheid” dat Luyendijk ook noemt als het gevoel onder een corrupte dictatuur, zoals in Arabische landen: het recht krijgt immers geen beloop, tegen machtige groepen die je benadelen of weg willen hebben. Dictaturen willen mensen rechteloos en ook dom houden, toch geldend als “verzachtende omstandigheden” als mensen hun ongenoegen iets anders uiten dan in open, vrije samenlevingen. <p>
Veel verklikkers en verraders in dictaturen ook, en mijn moeder had het over “enchufes”, als woord voor vriendjespolitiek/nepotisme met belangrijke functies en banen voor regime-getrouwe mensen. Het Spaanse woord “enchufe” is te vertalen als “aansluiting” Of “connectie/plug-in” (voor een functie dus), en vond ik hier wel grappig omdat het een van die Arabische leenwoorden in de Spaanse taal is, namelijk volgens etymologen afgeleid van het Arabische “jawf” (maag). Dit werd dus “enchufe”, werkwoord “enchufar” in het Spaans. <p>
Een van de punten in dit boek van Luyendijk is juist dat dit soort noodzakelijke contextualiseringen in het Westerse nieuws wat minder gegeven wordt bij Arabieren en Palestijnen, dan bij Israeliërs die hun (terechte) zorgen over terreur delen, en helemaal bij Westerlingen, of aan de kant van de VS. In de belangrijkste Westerse media werden het “Hollywood”-achtige militaire VS-perspectief uitgedragen van de militaire invasie van Irak en bijbehorende problemen (nu ook weer mbt Oekraïne). Met soms wat nuances of tegenspraak. Destijds waren de mainstream media in Nederland iets democratischer (meer debatten met tegenstanders) dan later tijdens de coronacrisis. Daar blijkt uit – filosofisch interessant – dat de realiteit complex en veelzijdig is (dictatuur, armoede, oorlog), maar leugens (w.o. media-hype’s) opvallend eenduidig en eenvormig. Veel ooit zogenaamd kritische, dwarse denkers namen immers opeens zinloze injecties/”vaccins”, bleven desgewenst thuis, en deden even zinloze maskertjes op. Even was de leugen sneller, haha. <p>
<b>CONTROLE</b><p>
Ik definieer “trauma” deels als onvermogen (of weer: onmacht), en “de controle kwijt zijn”, t.o.v. pijn veroorzaakt door machtiger partijen. Dat doet pijn en dehumaniseert. Wat in Nederlandse, nuchtere ogen lijkt op “hysterie” onder bijvoorbeeld Arabieren, lijkt soms echter ook op “zichzelf niet onder controle hebben”. Dat roept ons wantrouwen op, en maakt wat onzeker en bang, vooral bij zich macho gedragende mannen. Zo oppervlakkig is het mediabeeld helaas, en vaak onterecht. Het voorbeeld van mensen als Martin Luther King, en Nelson Mandela laten daarentegen zien dat jezelf “toch onder controle houden” (al wordt je leven en alles wat je hebt bedreigd en onderdrukt) waardig en wijs is, en inspirerend blijft, naast ook “mediageniek” genoeg. Ook Malcolm X, iets strijdbaarder en moslim, kon in talkshows beheerst en intelligent debatten voeren met blanken en tegenstanders, zonder ongenuanceerde of onbewezen “onzin te praten” of loze, generaliserende beledigingen. Dat kwam bij weldenkende, niet vooringenomen mensen goed over. <p>
Mogelijk zijn iets meer “vrouwelijke” waarden van zorg, communicatie,en gelijkwaardigheid - die meer een balans vonden met mannelijke in de Afrikaanse en Afro-Amerikaanse culturen -, hier nuttig voor Arabieren. Daarnaast vereist dat ook een open debat in een open, democratische samenleving waarin veel Arabieren, en zeker niet Iraqi’s onder Saddam Hussein’s onvrije dictatuur, simpelweg niet leefden. <p>
Helaas bijt de pro-mannelijkheid focus van de Koran en Islam (naar huidige maatstaven) zich hier in de staart bij Islamitisch protest tegen het Westen.. die vrouwonvriendelijkheid is er ook ook in de Bijbel (vrouwen krijgen zelfs onterecht de schuld van dingen), maar die is gerelativeerd in het latere, vrijere Christendom. De Jamaicaanse Rastafari-aanhanger en dichter Mutabaruka stelde ooit dat die “heilige boeken” als de Koran en Bijbel geschreven zijn door “onzekere mannen”, die vrouwen op hun plaats wilden zetten (naast andere dingen), reden waarom hij er wat afstand van nam in zijn interpretatie van Rastafari. <p>
Evenwel, alleen als je je in welvaart en in vrijheid als individu kunt ontwikkelen, heb je nog de “luxe”, of beter: ruimte, voor een vrije, aangepaste interpretatie van wat anderen “heilig” noemen. Normen en waarden, vrij leven. Zo is dat in het Westen gebeurd sinds de 1960s met het Christendom. Democratie speelde daarbij een rol, vrij onderwijs, emancipatie richting individuele vrijheid, vrouwenemancipatie, maar toch ook welvaart: niet alleen maar hoeven te overleven en strijden, maar ook gewoon leven, leren, en liefhebben. Had mijn moeder met haar (weer gewoon) “rijk tegen arm” over het Palestina-conflict toch in de kern gelijk.. <p>
De Arabische dictaturen die Luyendijk in dit boek beschrijft – met censuur en controle, en andere onderdrukkende omstandigheden en politiestaten, zoals de bezetting van Palestijns gebied, of overheersend oorlogsgeweld van de VS tegen Irak, bemoeilijken die “zelfcontrole” of “zelfverbetering voor het grotere goed” bij individuele leiders, zichzelf verbonden hebbend aan corrupte macht. Dat geldt echter ook voor die mediamanipulatie door autoritaire of belanghebbende partijen (aan beide zijden, maar zeker ook de Westerse), waardoor andere kanten van het verhaal, zelfs als er charismatische, inspirerende en overtuigende woordvoerders van zijn, gewoon minder toegang of kans krijgen.. Een treffende illustratie van hoe vrijheid en gelijkheid gerelateerd zijn. <p>
Ik kon me altijd voorstellen dat Joden een eigen, onafhankelijk land wilden, en dat kan ik me nog, vanuit de geschiedenis. Van mij mag het, en het is niet eens onzin. Ik ben een voorstander van gezond, open nationalisme, verbonden aan cultuur/geloof, van ieder volk, dat geen andere volkeren lastig - of binnen - valt. Leuk voor de variatie ook: er bestaan immers al meerdere “Arabische” landen, dus een Joodse mag er ook bij. Dat is de “wat” kant. Verder zitten er alleen meerdere kanten aan het verhaal - met name de “hoe” kant - die het voor mij soms moeilijker maken een kant te kiezen, vooral als het nieuws onbetrouwbaar is..
Dit laatste bleek uit dit goed leesbare en leerzame boek Het Zijn Net Mensen (2006) van Joris Luyendijk.<p>
Toegegeven, we zitten nu een tijd verder in een tijd van Internet en meer alternatieve media. De menselijke neiging om alles in het eigen voordeel en eigenbelang te manipuleren moet echter niet onderschat worden - ook niet in die alternatieve media -, vaak door middel van een quasi-beredeneerde ideologie of religie. De drammerige poging tot "verrechtsing" van het op zich legitieme coronaverzet - even kritische mensen uit de progressieve hoek (met soms meer systeemkritiek) als George Van Houts of Ewald Engelen negerend - is daar een recent voorbeeld van. <p>
Alles neutraal van alle kanten bekijkend - en gewoon toegeven als we iets niet weten - lijkt mij dan het wijste, en dat zegt eigenlijk ook Joris Luyendijk in dit boek.. Aan de andere kant wist ik dat al een tijdje..
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-81365857031152670872024-01-01T22:22:00.000-08:002024-01-02T14:37:20.273-08:00The Amsterdam reggae scene (2023/24)It is now over 5 years ago that I wrote for my blog (January, 2017) about the Amsterdam Reggae scene, <a href="https://michelconci.blogspot.com/2017/01/the-amsterdam-reggae-scene-201617.html">speaking about 2016 and 2017</a>. In fact, it was an update of my first description of the Amsterdam Reggae scene, written in Late 2012, so around 4 years earlier. <p>
I think now (January of already 2024) the time has come for once again an update, along the same thematic lines, as it were subdividing the “scene”. <p>
-REGGAE “CLUBS” (places) <p>
-REGGAE DEEJAY’S/SELECTAH’S <p>
-REGGAE PEOPLE (public, organizers)<p>
-REGGAE ARTISTS AND PERFORMERS. <p>
What has changed in the Amsterdam (and Netherlands) Reggae music scene since Early 2017, now about 6 years later? <p>
<b>TUMULTUOUS</b><p>
The period 2017-2023 was overall quite tumultuous, but especially the latter years, since the Corona pandemic declared by authorities, since March 2020, It was then that the world – but especially leading politicians – went crazy. <p>
Of course opinions differ about the restrictive corona policies, also affecting the Netherlands. If they were proper or necessary, if there really was a severe virus or a “pandemic”. The quest for ulterior motives by those critical of the policies - or as the CIA coined them: “conspiracy thinkers” - went on, and the (I think probable) ulterior motives will probably have to do with “the rich wanting to get richer”, or “elites fearing losing control”. Human history simply shows this.. <p>
The skeptical suspicions of other (non-medical) economical/political motives behind the proclaimed pandemic is "framed" here in the Western media as "Right-wing" or Right-Populist "conspracy theories", yet was widespread in the world, especially among poorer people (also from "the Left").. This framing is a matter of "wishful thinking" by authorities, hiding thus the (actually Right-wing!) vested interests behind such global policies, including multinationals, Big Pharma, Big Finance, etcetera.. All these profited in the period 2020-2022, which should have opened more eyes. Tellingly, I heard the word-play "pLandemic" (with the extra L) first from singer Buju Banton. <p>
Why then - if this is the case - exactly at this time period (2020) such an “elite power grab” through such deceptive policies (hyping up a virus)? One of the more convincing and best-argumented - and non-ideological! - analysis I heard was that this whole Western capitalist system - based on exploitation - could simply not last, due to its very parasitical nature, and imploded/exploded at this point. This might relate to a peaking financial crisis, or the Internet, this digital age, promising world citizens freedom (of information) and connection, answered by “the powers that be” by threatening with more totalitarian control through it. The age-old class struggle, in essence, in my opinion. <p>
While I considered it good and even heroic that people protested against the corona policies, and many sensible counter-ideas have been discussed about it, the theme is by now a well-trodden path, furthermore with decreased relevance and urgency, as the corona policies - some would say: failed deception strategy - seemed abandoned slowly in the course of 2022. Good to still stay vigilant of new "Babylon" schemes, of course. Some say "climate" (as opposed to actual "environment" protection) is one of these.<p>
Let’s therefore try to forget this political/Babylonian foolishness, and focus on “positive vibrations”, namely music, culture, and Reggae, and specifically real lovers of Reggae music in Amsterdam, wanting to enjoy their favourite music, also outside one’s own house.. in other words: a “scene”. <p>
Talking about “own house”.. during some of the several “peaks of lunacy” of the corona policies, also in the Netherlands there were periodic lockdowns – up to 2022 -, with all bars, clubs, restaurants, concert venues, etecetera, having to close for supposed medical (contagion) risk. <p>
This also affected of course the nightlife in a city like Amsterdam, the Netherlands, including eventual Reggae clubs. Several Reggae events (festivals, internationally, other events) were annulled or postponed. Also “regular Reggae deejay-sessions”, to name something common in several European cities, including Amsterdam, ceased for some years, with few, and troubled exceptions. The hospitality sector in Amsterdam was even more tightly controlled (I knew e.g. that closing hours of bars were guarded oddly strict by police) than I thought, and most had to comply to not lose their business/license, although some sought the margins of the possible. <p>
As part of the corona policies, the restrictions due to the QR code for entering public places (especially “fun” places, not for jobs and stores of course), as a conditional – read: discriminatory – opening up of bars and such), affected some “critical” Reggae fans. <p>
I remember – when places could open a bit more,under discriminatory conditions – that certain Reggae parties, or a few concerts, had people not able to enter, for not having a QR code – or jab prove – to show. Even a former anarchic “squatter” place, like OT301 (Overtoom, Amsterdam), complied with this unhappy Babylonian policy. <p>
As there were also travel restrictions for Jamaican artists, there were also limited Reggae concerts, especially in Europe (some US states like Florida still allowed concerts) in the period 2020-2022. <p>
This was a blow, and hiatus, - perhaps even a trauma – but there was also a lively Reggae period before it- from 2017 to February 2020 – without such restrictions, and the period after 2021 to now, when public life – also of reggae events – “scrambled up” so to speak, i.e. increased again. Pick Myself (or Itself) Up from the ground, as the song by Peter Tosh goes.. <p>
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Somehow the Amsterdam Reggae scene was kept alive also during corona closures and restrictions ., for – I think – interesting psychological/sociological reasons. <p>
<b>LIVE ONLINE CULTURE</b><p>
All culture, must be kept in mind in this inevitable digital age, including modern subcultures, but also folk and pop cultures, can only thrive with actual and regular human contacts and gatherings. That is my (informed) opinion, at least. In fact, a free interaction of humans. Both the totalitarian tendencies the corona policies exhibited, as the increased digitalization in the West – with powerful parties behind it (big tech/technocracy) - impacted this. The latter - Internet – became by necessity a replacement of actual “music events” (dee-jays’ or live shows), with more people joining live “online events”, and real-time communication through comments. <p>
Maybe it existed before, but it - known as: online streaming - certainly got a boost with those 2020-2022 “lockdowns” or, in some places, even evening curfews (for a type of influenza, I repeat). People were urged, but even forced to stay home. Also in the international Reggae scene, and from Amsterdam some dee-jays played Reggae live on e.g. Facebook pages. Also I, myself. <p>
While contradictory and – of course – not “the real thing”, these online events could offer some comfort, nice distraction, and good music and variety of taste within Reggae, but also.. connection, and promise of “the real thing”: actual events with other people you can actually feel and smell (in theory.. I mean, haha), and direct sound waves from bigger or better loudspeakers “pumping” Reggae than you have at home. <p>
I learned during my study that the Internet actually developed within US military circles, but luckily it spread outside of that elite context, and the freedom of information could not be tamed or controlled as much as "the powers that be" wanted.. <p>
Still.. actual culture requires physical gatherings, in my opinion. In that sense I agree with some critics of the corona policies, such as in the Netherlands Willem Engel, who called them – incl. lockdowns, gathering restrictions etc. - also an “attack on culture”. <p>
<b>REGGAE PLACES</b><p>
From 1917 to Early 2020 there were still some Reggae clubs active in Amsterdam, notably and most regularly <b>Café The Zen</b>, then in Amsterdam East, also organizing events outside that club/café (under the name Zen Social: or rather <b>ZenSocial productions</b>). Small-scale shows were also regularly held in Café the Zen itself, or otherwise dee-jay events of Reggae dee-jays, especially with many people attending in the weekends. This was alive and still going strong! <p>
Memorable for me was, e.g., the organized trip from Amsterdam to the island of Texel (NW Netherlands) in 2017, with the whole Café The Zen (read: Amsterdam Reggae)-community, with there shows of Warrior King from Jamaica, Marla Brown (daughter of Dennis, living in Britain), and Netherlands Reggae artists coming over. This is a lived culture, with actual physical presence. I even flirted with Marla Brown, or she with me? (just joking..).. <p>
In 2017 and the years after, great artists like Fantan Mojah, Keida (from nice song Ganja Tea), I-Taweh, Lenn Hammond, Kushite, Khalilah Rose, and Vivian Jones, or national Reggae acts, like Jampara, Imishango, Zed I, Joggo, Miriam Simone, Lyrical Benjie, King I I Opo, or Rapha Pico .. really too much to mention - – perfomed or reappeared - in Café the Zen, while ZenSocial organized concerts by great Reggae artists like Everton Blender, Junior Kelly, Akae Beka, and Bushman, in concert venues/halls the direct surroundings of Amsterdam (Zaandam, Amstelveen). <p>
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These regular events – plus the very real sense that we were part of a Reggae community in Amsterdam – was later brutally disrupted by Babylon authorities attacking the vey lifeblood of it: freedom. <p>
For the regular visitors of Café The Zen (like me) there was another shock or disappointment preceding this, as Café the Zen announced its closure (something with real-estate, rent costs, I understood) as of March 2020, when the whole corona hype was still a rumour. Very coincidental, but it – intended or not – softened the blow coming thereafter.. <p>
I was already starting to look for alternative Reggae places in Amsterdam, when the lockdowns coming in the months after confined me and my social life even more. I had a few private parties with dee-jay’s playing Reggae in that period, just to not always play Reggae I like just at my own home. I enjoy that, to be sure, but I think alterations of spaces and environments for humans are a psychological necessity: you dance among friends and strangers in another place – another “world” temporarily – and then return home for your usual, “homely” things, or relaxing with some fun YouTube film or documentary, either way as your own after party. <p>
The lockdowns disrupted that natural, organic process and made “staying home” obligatory, rather than a respite or refuge. I guess it’s like having sex: it’s not relaxing and fun anymore when you are obliged/forced to. <p>
Café Frontline, near Amsterdam’s Red Light district (with Surinamese owners) stayed open for a while (up to and “in-between” lockdowns) in the period 2020-2022. I was required – as I would in all other bars in Amsterdam – to fill in my name at the Café at one point: a place (Café Frontline) I have visited regularly for years. Not just an intrusion of privacy, but also making you feel guilty for going out: wicked policy, with the virus as excuse. All freedom and spontaneity troubled, though we always tried to hold a good Reggae vibe anyway. And forgot those bothersome policies when sweet Reggae played! <p>
Other places were “visited” so to speak by Reggae selecta’s/dee-jay’s until the lockdowns got stricter, and after strict policies loosened. Selecta’s once playing in Café the Zen – like Jah Sisters - could play in some places in Amsterdam, like Kashmir Lounge, Hunter’s Grand Café, Molli Chaoot, or Bret. <p>
<b>JAMAICA LOUNGE</b><p>
Another Reggae place I paid more attention to after Café the Zen closed was Jamaica Lounge, in Amsterdam-West. I went before a few times, noticing a bar-like atmosphere with not too loud music, albeit relatively good music (often Jamaican Reggae, because of its Jamaican owner Jimbo).. <p>
In Late 2019 and after, the sound was improved (volume, acoustics), more to “club level”, and I could listen to some good Reggae there, interrupted by lockdown periods as Jamaica Lounge had to comply with it and was closed. Despite this, and when possible, Jamaica Lounge organized sometimes events, and I got more attention to them after Café the Zen closed. <p>
Dependent on the occasional selecta’s/dee-jay’s or music played it was often okay (Roots Reggae or New Roots regularly), now with better sound, those nights at Jamaica Lounge – in Amsterdam West, although sometimes more Dancehall than Roots. <p>
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<p>
(<i>Photo above: Jamaica Lounge on the De Clercqstraat 117, Amsterdam-West</i>)
<p>
I got to know the owner Jimbo better, appreciating how he was music and Reggae-minded (also regarding older Reggae from his youth), and it thus offered some kind of a steady Reggae club for me. Furthermore, Jamaica Lounge not too far from the part of Amsterdam where I live. If I am not too lazy – or my bike broke down – I could even walk to Jamaica Lounge, haha. <p>
Other places with sometimes Reggae music were the Molli Chaoot café in Amsterdam De Pijp/ Old South (a former squatter's café), and some “free-havens” in and around Amsterdam (NDSM, Ruigoord).. Some of these were UK/Euro Dub-minded, but always with some room for Jamaican Reggae. <p>
Unfortunately, those in name “free havens” in Amsterdam and around, started by free-spirited people, often with links to “hippie” pasts, like Ruigoord or some other places within Amsterdam, could not escape the totalitarian corona policies, as they were forced to comply with the rules or measures that made no sense (forbidden outside parties: influenza-like contagion is improbable – almost impossible - with outside air, even if harmful enough to make such a fuss about it).. <p>
The Amsterdam Reggae scene never stopped, though, and not just digitally/online, or virtually in one’s own home. The policies had an isolating/dividing effect which I from my historical and sociological studying justly predicted (not that I am so wise: just dry historical analysis). When public life is not fully “free” for citizens, people tend to withdraw to smaller social circles of trustworthy persons, often family or closer friends. Often also ethnically remarkably homogenous, despite the over 140 nationalities residing in a city like Amsterdam. This limits real cultural “scenes”, and I find this a pity. A small circle leads to a smaller mind, and just aids “divide and conquer” policies of authorities.. <p>
Studio work and bands practicing more or less continued, despite restrictions, so some Reggae musicians could still assemble in a limited sense. As long as they did not start to resemble “parties”, I suppose. I myself practiced with some other musicians, in rehearsal spaces in Amsterdam, often called “studio’s”, colloquially. <p>
<b>EARTH WORKS</b><p>
One of those actual “studio’s”, that is: with extensive (updated) recording equipment, in Amsterdam, slowly developed into a more social space – despite the anti-social policies – with people actually gathering, first on a small scale: the Earth Works studio, led by Ben King, having recorded several Dutch and international Reggae artists in previous years, and having become a nice gathering place in “freer” times before 2020. (Website: <a href="https://www.earthworksamsterdam.com/">https://www.earthworksamsterdam.com</a>). It specializes in Reggae. It remained by necessity “low-key” during lockdown/corona periods, but
Earth Works studio changed location from Weesp (just East of Amsterdam), to the North of Amsterdam (Buikslotermeerdijk), on one of those cultural “free havens” terrains, called ADM/Groene Veld. When freedom returned, it had become as much a gathering place as a studio for recording or rehearsing, at least offering some “community” sense (with dee-jays/selecta’s playing and “open” parties), but by then it was already 2023. <p>
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Despite its somewhat marginal location in the Far North of Amsterdam (the city virtually ends there), it became a nice, positive gathering place for people of different parts of the Reggae scene: both those who frequented Café the Zen (Roots and New Roots lovers), and the “squatter” scene (including Roots, but also Dub/Steppers lovers), of different ethnic backgrounds, and including some creative artists as well. <p>
I visited Earth Works studio’s several times (already a few times when it was still in Weesp), and liked the vibes. Good that there are such “open”, creative places, anyway, despite its marginal location. Good recording equipment too, by the way, for those musicians interested. For quite reasonable prices, when compared to other studios, and aimed at especially Reggae music. <p>
Now, as I write this, Late 2023, Earth Works studios is still very active, as is Jamaica Lounge, and ZenSocial organizes events again, and since around 2022 Jamaican Reggae artists started performing in Amsterdam and around again. Nice (even great!) concerts by Lila Iké and Nkulee Dube (Lucky’s daughter) at P60 (Amstelveen, just South of Amsterdam) I could enjoy in mid-2022, organized by ZenSocial productions. ZenSocial continues to organize and plan events, by the way, for Early 2024 (see: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/CafeTheZen/">https://www.facebook.com/CafeTheZen</a>/.<p>
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(<i>Photo above: I with Lila Ike (pointing) after her show at P60, Amstelveen, June 2022</i>)
<p>This made me realize that “we are free again”, to quote a song By Burning Spear song from his Studio One days.. <p>
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Jamaican artists also have meanwhile performed in the bigger concert venues Paradiso and Melkweg, and Reggae festivals took place in the Summer of 2023. I visited several, also in Amsterdam: Reggae Sunsplash and Reggae Lake, including good concerts by big Jamaican or Reggae names (Kabaka Pyramid, Richie Spice, Burning Spear, Capleton, Steel Pulse), and local artists. Some I even saw for the first time (Barrington Levy, Twinkle Brothers, – old school -, and Mortimer – new school Roots). <p>
We are indeed “free again”. Yet: for a city of now over 800.000 inhabitants: the biggest city in the Netherlands, Amsterdam has very few “steady” Reggae places, with regular Reggae to count on. Not much beyond Jamaica Lounge (not far West from more central Amsterdam, but still off-route for many) or Earth Works (also called: Dub Hub) at the brink of Amsterdam-North. Besides this, occasional Reggae parties in other rented places (clubs, community houses) for the occasion. <p>
Better than nothing, of course, but too little in relation to the actual number of Reggae fans in Amsterdam. <p>
<b>REGGAE DEE-JAY’S/SELECTA’S</b><p>
Those dee-jay’s/selecta’s from mainly the Café the Zen days (2008-2020) in Amsterdam East were luckily not demoralized enough to continue, and when the measures loosened, started to play records again at social, public events: Jah Sisters (Sound Cista, DJ Jessi), Empress Donnalee, DJ Rowstone, DJ Ewa, Mystic Tammy, Ras Sjamaan, the Polish-French Zen Rockers posse (Vega Selecta, a.o.), Loddy Culture, Selectress Aur’ El (many of these people I interviewed for this blog as well). Some from the “squatter” scene (I call it that, haha) meanwhile had become more active, such as Pinedub, Jah Code (Carly), and new names like Eve Lien Dubwise (recently interviewed for my blog), with good musical rootical selections. The latter, Eve Lien, had a more Rootical taste, but some – a matter of taste – played at times more UK Steppers or Dub than Roots Reggae. Not my favourite subgenre within the whole Reggae field, but that is just my personal taste. Some of these selecta’s, of different backgrounds (Polish, French, Surinamese) also played at Earth Works studio, on some parties. <p>
I myself took throughout 2023 some of my vinyl albums too to play as selecta at places like Café Havelaar (central Amsterdam), bar Molli Chaoot (Amsterdam-Old South) or Earth Works studio (Amsterdam North) on a few occasions. My Reggae vinyl collection is quite varied (incl. some Studio One), but a bit concentrated on the Channel One/Rockers period between 1976 and 1983. Each selecta specializes, I guess. <p>
I noticed this also with the different selecta’s now active again in Amsterdam: different specialities: from Classic Reggae, to New Roots (Sizzla, Fantan Mojah, Morgan Heritage, Lutan Fyah, etc.), to Dub and Steppers. King Shiloh travels around and is well-known, but also made a move toward Steppers lately, unfortunately at the cost of Roots, which is on the other hand not absent. Covenant soundsystem, or Shashamane Sound, and other dee-jay combinations with a longer history in Amsterdam and around, and newer “sounds” like Shamba Lion (also Haarlem-based), still focus on Jamaican Roots though, as do Empress Donnalee, Jah Sisters (more New Roots), DJ Ewa, Mystic Tammy, or DJ Rowstone (partly Dancehall too). Some of the mentioned selecta’s combine Steppers with Roots more evenly (e.g. Jah Code). Newer influences also reached a veteran sound in Amsterdam like Shashamane Sound, though, as they (besides Jamaican Reggae), also played modern Dancehall, such as at a recent party – Late 2023 - at the Jamaican Lounge. <p>
Some of these selecta’s/dee-jay’s keep up with newer releases since pre-corona days, as studio work in Jamaica luckily continued after 2020, and artists like Lutan Fyah, Richie Spice, Bushman, Sizzla, Luciano, Hempress Sativa, Aza Lineage, and Jah Mason still could release good songs in the period 2020-2023. Some of these with lyrics critical of the corona policies. Such critique is seldom heard in Western pop, but for historical reasons Caribbean people tend to be more critical of government policies and authorities (as most people in poorer countries, in fact). <p>
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<b>REGGAE PEOPLE</b><p>
Over time I got to find out how there were relatively many Polish people in the Amsterdam Reggae scene. This remained so, and possibly is a result of underground Punk-Reggae connections already existing during Communism in Poland (before 1990). The connections with squatters and anarchist movements are evident as well of this part of the Reggae scene, resulting in Reggae parties with international people, from various European countries, sharing a free, “squatter” spirit: from Italy, Poland, France, Spain, Serbia, Greece, a.o. In fact, I think this is also a nice, open-minded scene, with a real love for Reggae, albeit partly more the Steppers and Dub parts of it among some. Some in this “squatter scene” – to name it simplified – still play and prefer real Jamaican Roots though, and specialized in it, notably vinyl players. <p>
There are however no strict barriers, as this “sub-scene” often mixes, also as dee-jay’s on parties, with the other part of the Reggae scene, like the erstwhile Café the Zen community, with many people of Surinamese descent, but also Africans, Antilleans, and others. UK Steppers or Dub seems less popular among this group, New Roots (Tarrus Riley, Richie Spice, Bushman, Sizzla, etc.) all the more. <p>
The nice thing about a free culture is that these groups share a love for Jamaican music in the broader sense, and are not opposed, but sometimes intermingle as well, resulting in interesting parties or mutual inspirations. <p>
These two groups – already existing “before corona” - come for instance together at the Earth Works studio in recent years, but before 2020 also sometimes. Branches of the same tree, so to speak. <p>
ZenSocial from former Café the Zen) and Black Star Foundation (led by Michelle and Den Den) remained as Reggae-aimed organizations, and kept on organizing events, when possible. Of course they had to comply with corona policy rules, else “Babylon” would bother or limit them, but after the lockdowns, nice events were organized again, such as nice concerts, especially since 2022. <p>
<b>REGGAE ARTISTS AND PERFORMERS</b><p>
Well, like their Jamaican counterparts, Reggae artists in Amsterdam were limited regarding live performances at the peak of corona plandemic madness. In-between and after the lockdowns, they performed here and there, sometimes on sound. Some continued – like other artists – with studio work, or composing, practicing their music. True artists remain artists, and do not do it for the money. Some demeaning comments once made by British politicians supporting the corona policies that “musical artists can always find other work”, show both disdain and misunderstanding of true artistry. Some people just have to make songs. Like Pablo Picasso had to make paintings, even at the cost of a stable life. <p>
I am one of those people who “have” to make songs too (songs I like to make, the personal appreciation I leave to others), striving for free artistry, and also confined during the lockdowns I paid more attention to varied ways of making songs and composing, with own instruments, equipment and DAW (“home studio” would be too big a word, haha). It offered me a nice creative respite and comfort. I even have a message with my lyrics, haha. While the way I work (home recording) seems solitary, I like to work alone; often for the mere freedom it offers, but also because I do not like nepotism and money: two evils tormenting the music industry (in the Netherlands and elsewhere), and therefore use the digital age (YT channels a.o.) to my advantage, for my self-expression. Check: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/michelconci">https://www.youtube.com/michelconci</a>, if interested.<p>
That's me.. Yet I can also imagine that with good friends or trustworthy people, recognizing your soul, it would be nice to make music together, as some in Amsterdam do. <p>
As of, say 2023, several Netherlands-based Reggae artists remained active (as they were already before corona), and released recently new material. Interestingly, also with the Earth Works studio in Amsterdam-North in some cases a role in it (recording, producing). <p>
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Rapha Pico, Lyrical Benjie, Miriam Simone, Imishango, Shiwa, Samora, Mo Ali, the bands Flavour Coalition, Dejavu (including also selecta Rowstone), and others can be mentioned, while residing outside of Amsterdam, Black Omolo, Zed I, Strawl, also released some good songs, or meanwhile gave good live shows in Amsterdam, showing increased professional standards over time, as is natural. Many have positive "message" songs too, lyrics-wise, even with some topical themes slipping in. <p>
Both Samora and Mo Ali (orig. from Sudan) impressed me with good songs and tight, groovy musicianship of their bands during their performances at the Reggae Lake festival in 2023 (Amsterdam South East), as did Imishango, or Zed I, recently. Rapha Pico and Miriam Simone also came with good new songs in recent years. <p>
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Professional and skilled Reggae instrumentalists – session musicians, as they are called - are certainly also there in the Amsterdam Reggae scene, offering tight-sounding music for artists they accompany, approaching quite closely the Jamaican reggae standard. Totally reaching this standard is impossible, so it is no diss from my part. The best and realest Samba will always be from Brazil, the best and realest Flamenco from Spain, and the best and realest Reggae from Jamaica. It is their organically developed culture, and more deeply enshrined in it. This one notices in inimitable drumming styles – or bass-drums-vocals interactions, that can’t really be copied outside of Jamaica, only approached. <p>
Yet, as an art form Reggae became international, as other music genres, and can still reach quality, also outside of Jamaica, as some nice, international examples show. <p>
Leaving the thorny and overly perfectionist issue of “Jamaican level” aside: there are at this time nuff groovy and good Reggae drummers, guitarists, keyboard players, horn players, and other instrument players (old and young) in the Amsterdam/Zaandam region, such as people like veteran drummer “steady” Freddie Poncin, having played with several Jamaican artists to their satisfaction, skilled bass player Kay Hasselbaink also plays Reggae well, and with Ras Maiky (based in Zaandam, near Amsterdam) there is also a good, Reggae-specialized percussionist. <p>
I am also a percussionist, but play several genres, having switched between Afro-Cuban, African, to Blues, Funk, and Rock, besides also Reggae (jamming/playing live also, not just for own recordings). Ras Maiky, however, played with mainly a lot of different Reggae artists, also Jamaican ones, over the years. <p>
These Reggae session musicians in and around Amsterdam combine under different names (Tuff Sound Band, Unstoppable Force, Royal Roots band, Noble Chanters, Roots Lions, for instance), accompanying the mentioned artists usually aptly. <p>
So as Lucky Dubé sang, “you can’t stop Reggae”: Reggae artists who are for real will continue, despite “anti-concert” or “anti-nightlife” – some say: “anti-culture” policies - by Babylon/authorities in especially the period 2020-2022. <p>
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Most artists I know from before 2020 in the Amsterdam seem thus to have “scrambled up” after the lockdowns, surviving, especially artists (who kept recording). In some cases (especially for event organizers) this inevitably meant complying with restrictive policies perhaps more than necessary. A matter of dignity and honour, and while it is easy for me to lambast these choices as cowardice or “uncle tom”-like..on the other hand: rebellion by a few, while most comply, of course has no effect, and brings only persons and their livelihood in troubles, while the system keeps winning. So understandable to survive. <p>
<b>ON BALANCE</b><p>
“You can’t comply yourself out of totalitarianism”, wise people said, but luckily the authorities stopped the harshest totalitarian policies themselves, after an odd period of jab/”vaccine” propaganda up to and in to 2022.. <p>
The damage has already been done, but the Reggae scene as a whole fortunately survived, albeit with scars and traumas. It affected some on the personal level. Private “house” parties became more common after March 2020, but are after all by definition exclusionary and discriminatory, and some insecure people needing confirmation limited such private house parties based on ethnic preferences, family ties, or longtime close friends. Insecurity and ego, as it caressed one’s own ego with on the one side ethnic/national “pride”, and on the other side a celebrated capacity to make “cool” friends.. Mi no like that.. <p>
In human psycho-social development – besides – confirmation precedes inspiration, so we actually went back to “private confirmation parties”.. and the Rastaman a seh: Forward Ever and Backwards Never.. Only because of political fiction.. <p>
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This favourist behaviour also stimulates nepotism – favouring friends over others for honourable positions - : already a problem in any music industry. Mi no like that, neither. <p>
Yet even those “home parties” could be in other cases well-intended and non-discriminatory, I also noticed, but there was still limited space or the matter of sound volume (neighbours!). <p>
Either way, they are usually a resort in totalitarian/dictatorial contexts (Iran has many semi-hidden “house parties”, for example), and serves to isolate and divide the population. The age-old strategy of the “powers that be” to divide-and-conquer or divide-and-rule, and quell popular resistance against injustice. <p>
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<p>
Critique of or by fanatical proponents - also found in the scene - of the rights-trampling corona measures caused some contacts to be broken, or “unfriending”, to use FaceBook lingo, but these were usually not close friends, but rather acquaintances, who only seemed to share a love for Reggae, but turned out to have different worldviews or political stances. In my experience, mostly people from wealthy families (rich fathers) supported the corona policies, and much less poor people (Black or White), making me mistrust them even more, haha. <p>
So a free, open cultural life – like an urban Reggae “scene” - with friends, but also acquaintances or strangers you do not really know that well, can have “confusing’ disadvantages: with some you share not much more than liking some Reggae songs.. and even that they might listen to differently (to lyrics or not), haha. Surely there are (as in wider Amsterdam) “backstabbers”, big ego's, wicked/badmind people, "crypto-racists" or even psychopaths among them (as everywhere, but relatively most in top business and politics). On the other hand, this variety also has the advantage that you can equally find positive, loving people, kindred spirits and new good friends - or even just interesting, funny people - (through Reggae!). You gotta live and learn. <p>
However, I consider that peanuts, and a small price to pay for freedom and a truly democratic cultural life, including interesting cultural differences. I thus personally overall still favour an open, free, public, pluriform, and rich cultural life in societies, to be able to mingle freely with anyone, stand in front of different type of speakers, in different clubs, attending any event one wishes, going to any place at any time, etcetera. Too many boundaries, inna Babylon. <p>
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<b>CONCLUSION</b><p>
So, the main and positive conclusion is that now, at the end of the year 2023, and the start of 2024, the “Reggae scene” as such is still well alive in Amsterdam and the Netherlands. Many people make Reggae, and events are regularly organized, often in cooperation with concert venues. <p>
On the down side, there came unfortunately no steady replacement – a fixed location - for Café the Zen, once in Amsterdam East, with e.g. a stage for performing and regular, weekly activities. This was also welcomed then for "upcoming" artists, starting on smaller stages, giving them opportunities to perform for people. Earth Works studio in Amsterdam North, though in a less accessible, outer part of Amsterdam, still became something like a replacement. It has a nice studio, but not really a “stage”, though. <p>
To quote another Reggae song, the Reggae organizers are “forced to live just like a Gypsy” (Bunny Wailer’s Blackheart Man). <p>
Amsterdam’s city authorities showed an ugly, undemocratic face during the Corona policies in 2020 and 2021, with police violence against demonstrators (such as on the Museumplein/square.. some Reggae played there too from ghetto blasters, I recall).. This (police violence against peaceful demonstrators) I did not even expect to witness in the Netherlands, and reminded me of stories during dictatorial Fascist/Francoist Spain (up to 1975), heard from my mother and Spanish family. Amsterdam seemed to have become increasingly authoritarian. The prohibitting in 2023 of "smoking weed" in parts of old-central Amsterdam (Red Light District) is also a sign of that (while you can - from a bag - still drink rum or whiskey in the same streets.. nonsense law)..<p>
Despite its still “cool”, liberal image in much of the world (due to the marijuana-allowing coffeeshops, mainly), Amsterdam at present does not seem very Reggae-minded as a city. You really have to search for Reggae music and places.. you don’t find it always automatically.. Some bars or clubs play at times Reggae, maybe. Only a few regularly, at present (Jamaica Lounge in Amsterdam West, due to its Jamaican owner), and some (like Molli Chaoot) are quite Reggae-minded, besides marginally located Earth Works. <p>
Yet, as this update shows: there is still an active and willing Reggae scene, consisting of varied people, wanting to organize events/parties, go to them (many preferably every weekend), or to perform their music or play their records. <p>
In that sense there is still kind of a Reggae community in Amsterdam, with many people knowing each other. Okay: there are a few personal tensions or conflicts between persons as in all groups/communities (even within families this occurs, after all), but mostly “good vibes”.. <p>
Amsterdam has relatively many “Black” inhabitants of Surinamese descent (besides directly from Africa itself), and in a broad sense Suriname has some similarities with Jamaica historically (North European/Protestant colonizer, slavery, African roots and retentions, partly from Ghana, in both cases), but is neither totally similar. <p>
To draw a parallel: in the percussion world, percussion players like myself trying to add more Afro-Brazilian (drumming) patterns to the Afro-Cuban patterns I already knew, got surprised that the “percussive transition to Afro-Brazil” was not as easy and smooth as I assumed from supposed historical similarities between Cuba and Brazil (Iberian colonizer, slavery, African descent, incl. a shared Yoruba and Congo heritage). Now I can play also some Samba drum/rhythmic patterns, but it still required some intense studying. <p>
Nonetheless, the Caribbean/African Diaspora connection/similarity of Surinamese people is certainly there and helpful to a degree, also in approaching the Jamaican Reggae standard playing the music, or simply “feeling” the music. Reggae is originally “sufferers” (poor people) music, with many socially critical messages, and is also strongly spiritually influenced by Rastafari. That attracts many people too. <p>
On the other hand, the art form of Jamaican Reggae always attracted varied people of different ethnic backgrounds (Black, White, Asian), also in Amsterdam, with most having at least a sincere affinity with the sufferers and Rastafari message of Black people, though some might listen more to the lyrics than others. <p>
That’s also the beauty and positivity of a free, living culture, with people actually meeting in public places. People of different backgrounds coming together because of the love for a music and culture, getting to know and learning from each other (our shared humanity), while becoming aware – okay: some faster than others - of the “real enemy” or oppressors of common people’s freedoms and rights. <p>
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-46440714368210119202023-12-01T22:01:00.000-08:002023-12-03T15:20:43.184-08:00Calabash As a percussionist I almost inevitably encountered the calabash, perhaps more known as “gourd” in English. The fruit of a wider family, including also the pumpkin, squash, but also the courgette (zucchini, in English), the calabash (also: gourd) obtained in several cultures in dried form a wider function than a nutritional one (container, for one). Whereas the strong US influence in this world, and even the imitation of Halloween parties in European countries – for some reason – made the pumpkin’s decorative, “ritual” use most well-known, in my life as percussionist the calabash had another significance altogether. First, in my case, as resonator of – acoustical - musical instruments I used. Not unimportant of course, but while I enjoyed the sound it helped produce, I took it somehow for granted. <p>
<b>RESONATOR</b><p>
A shékere I use (of African, Yoruba origin), and the guiro scraper (originally known from Cuba, but also long used among Amerindians in South America) – both made from dried calabash - would not be the same without the calabash, or gourd, as resonator. That because it is in reality not just a resonator, but also a natural “amplifier”. <p>
The dried gourd is hard and firm enough for that use. Interestingly, a small balafon (xylophone-like) I have, from Senegal, has gourds as resonator under the stones, to very nice effect. Recently I got a shaker made of gourd/calabash, in a “bottle” shape – a bottle gourd- probably from Igbo culture in SE Nigeria, similar to shape as the shékere, but without beads around it. <p>
Another shaker I have for a long time (even before I delved more intensively into percussion, since about 2006) consisted of two calabash resonators on each side of a kind of basket, filled with metal beads. Here also the calabash makes the difference with other shakers, but I maybe did not realize it that much even. I just liked the sound, and how it combined with other instruments. <p>
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<p>
The Kalimba thumb piano – a wide-spread modern (“westernized’) simplification of the Zimbabwean Mbira thumb piano – also is often made often of gourd, although the one I have is – as someone said – probably from coconut (also common). The original Mbira (with more metal tines) – by the way used traditionally the gourd. <p>
Another lamellophone/thumb piano I have is actually African, from Cameroon, but is also from wood (with bamboo tines). Calabash/gourd is however used a lot for African instruments, as resonators (also for Kora lutes, for instance, mbiras, or musical bows), and as “drum” itself. <p>
Thus throughout my percussion compositions (I call these “percussion instrumentals”), or jamming with percussion instruments live in some clubs, I in fact used “calabash” quite regularly, but especially as resonators, contributing therefore to some degree nicely to the whole musical experience. It was therefore in this sense like the proverbial “elephant in the room”, though not as much ignored, as just not deeply analysed. <p>
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I suddenly realized that I have quite a lot of dried “calabash” in my house, spread throughout several instruments, haha. A percussionist’s thing.. <p>
<b>SHEKERE</b><p>
The shékere shaker (beads around a calabash with a hole) – common in Yorubaland, Nigeria, but spread throughout Latin America, might be the best known use, with the roundish beads wrapped around it. Enslaved Yoruba and other Africans brought this to Cuba, Brazil, and other countries. The shékere is still used there, especially in folk culture, such as Afro-Cuban and –Brazilian religions (Santería, Candomblé). <p>
In addition, especially the larger Shékeres – known as sekere in Yoruba – function often as calabash drum as well, as it is tapped at the bottom while shaken at the same time, customary also in traditional Yoruba music (SW Nigeria, Benin). <p>
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Interestingly, the also quite well-known Cabasa shaker – more modern and with metal beads, was developed in Brazil as a modernization of that Shékere, but without calabash (instead: wood, metal, and plastic) in its shaking or resonating. The calabash Shékere however still tends to be more used traditionally in Brazil, as in Cuba, and elsewhere in the Americas and Africa. <p>
In more southern Africa, by the way, the gourd/calabash also has a resonator function for the semi-percussive “musical bows” there (Angola, Namibia, Zambia, South Africa), the foreparent – of course – of the Berimbau bow of Afro-Brazilian Capoeira (still using a gourd resonator for the sole string). <p>
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<b>AS DRUM</b><p>
Directly hitting or drumming on a calabash also is possible of course – to which the large Shekere use already hinted, but without the beads -, and I got interested in that later. I hit the calabash shaker I have with a stick sometimes as extra sound (even live in the mic), but especially in Africa itself, actual calabash, or gourd, “drums” are still commonly used, also played by hands. In fact, this is the case in a large part of Africa: from Mali and Ghana, Cameroon, to even more southern in Southern Africa, alongside its mentioned use for musical bow resonators, and large and small balafons (in fact all over Africa). <p>
I vaguely knew this, but my interest in this was revived when I saw another musician I know (drums and percussion) in the Netherlands, Freddy Poncin, play a larger calabash drum (open bottomed) at a concert in Amsterdam. Poncin played with several (also Jamaican) Reggae artists as a drummer, but in this case played that calabash drum – with a kind of bass function – on a concert, November 2023, accompanying nicely local Surinamese-Dutch Reggae artists Rapha Pico and Miriam Simone in Amsterdam. <p>
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Instead of a standard drum kit, this concert had two percussion sets for the rhythm section, one by Freddy Poncin (the other one played by experienced Netherlands-based Reggae percussionist Ras Maiky), turning out groovy (read: danceable) enough as replacement of that drum kit. I got especially intrigued by the unusual use of that calabash drum by one of the percussionists, Freddy Poncin. <p>
It was then that I entered something more “new” for me: the calabash as drum. Theoretically it was not new to me, but in reality I did not encounter it as much. I saw - also online – how Africans played such a large calabash (with open bottom), alone or in a drum ensemble, rendering a low, full sound. It can be played with sticks and hands. <p>
When with hands, there was one hand use that intrigued me, as it seemed adapted to the unique material and sonic characteristics of the calabash shell: the fist-down hit (like when you slam your fist on the table, pinky-side down). This “fist down” hit on a larger calabash drum renders a deeper, nice sound (bass-like), that sounds quite unique, when compared to other (skin-based) drums, or wood-based instruments I am used to playing. A distinct, unique sound. <p>
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Sure, on larger skin-based drums this fist-down (pinky at bottom) hit is possible, but usually does not add much difference, from e.g. a palm hit. For a calabash drum it seemed more required for a certain sound. <p>
In Ghana and Burkina Faso this calabash drum is e.g. known, but in other parts of Africa as well: the Mande-speaking regions (Mali, Niger, Guinea, a.a.). It is most known from that West African region, but further study showed it is also used as drum (besides as resonator) or “hitting block” up to Southern Africa. <p>
A pity I could not find such a calabash drum for my collection and compositions (and jamming), I began to think.. <p>
<b>WATER DRUM</b><p>
Another use that intrigued me was the “water drum” use of the calabash. I read about this in a paper book I have since long (‘Trommels & klankinstrumenten’, by Töm Klöwer), in Dutch, translated from German (title transl.= Drums and sound instruments). This water drum was mainly found among the Malinké en Senufo people, spread throughout Mali, Burkina Faso, and Ivory Coast, this book said. <p>
In this instrument, in a large though emptied melon basin filled with water, half-calabashes are put in belly-up, and hit with a kind of spoon (also traditionally made from calabash), by the prestigious female Poro community. Whereas in many African culture skin-based drums are the domain of men, these water calabash drums are played by women. <p>
This skin-based-drum played only by men in Africa is a common gender division, though more strictly upheld (traditionally at least) in West Africa, and less so in Central and Southern Africa, where women more often play skinned drum. The calabash-based water drum in West Africa – not skinned - can however be played by women. <p>
This division (men can only play skin drums) might seem strange or sexist to some, or at least rigid. Motivations given for it relate mostly to (spiritually) “purity” or “strength”, or (socially) “desexualizing” the context, especially in sacred settings. Some – more practically - associate it with the skin and wood: taking skin of killed or deceased animals for drum skin, and chopping and reworking wood, are “men’s jobs” (also in Europe, btw), so also the drumming that they result in.. <p>
The Nyabinghi drummers of the Jamaican-originated, spiritual and Afro-centric Rasta
i movement, still more or less uphold this distinction, as often only men drum, and women tend to play shakers and chant along.
This water drum in Mali/Burkina Faso/Ivory Coast, however is played by women, and is known in the local language as “gi dunu”, a funny “onomatopoeia”, as linguists call it: the formation of a word from a sound associated with what is named. In this case a “watery” sound. <p>
Indeed, its sound is kind of “gi dunu-like” , “underwater” bass-like, and deep and warm. They exist in different sizes, with differing tonality. More modern uses (also by Westerners and men), include with metal basins, newer sticks, or played by hand. <p>
The Tuareg nomadic people in Northern Mali and around (Berber language, mixed with black Africans) use a similar calabash water drum, to imitate the sound of the camel, so crucial in their desert lives.. Also an interesting use. Men play it among the Tuareg. <p>
<b>DOMESTICATION</b> <p>
According to Wikipedia, the gourd or calabash was known in Asia from “ever since”, so to speak, at least since around 8000 BC, then around 4000 BC in Africa, then parts of Europe, and not long after Asia, being there long, so long before Columbus came. It was also “domesticated” in cultivation (adapted, strengthened by humans) quite soon in history, in all these continents. <p>
<b>ASIA AND ELSEWHERE</b><p>
It is therefore quite possible that those musical functions of gourds (resonator or percussive) could be found outside of Africa as well. I became curious, but know also that Africa is the most percussive continent. It sounds like a cliché, but it’s true musically: Africa is the most percussive/percussion-rich continent. It also is, also almost a cliché, the most rhythm-focused continent, especially sub-Saharan Africa. <p>
I said this before, but over-simplifying one can say that, musically, Europe focuses overall more on harmony, Asia on melody, and Africa on rhythm. <p>
Tellingly, a known example from a gourd-based traditional instrument in China is a reed instrument: the “gourd flute”, or Hulusi, in fact known in a larger part of Asia, from Myanmar/Burma, to Vietnam, and mainly in the most southwestern of China’s provinces, Yunnan, bordering both Burma and Vietnam, and with a subtropical climate. So, as resonator it is found outside of Africa and the African Diaspora (in the Americas) as well. The flute consists of bamboo flutes, with a gourd resonator. Drum in Chinese is “gong”, and in Chinese, and other Asian music, metal seems indeed the preferred material for “drums” or general rhythmical functions. Skin drums are not absent, but of lesser importance, and calabash as drum (as in e.g. Mali, Africa) also unknown.. <p>
The Chinese/SE Asian Hulusi resembles in sound somewhat the Clarinet, and has popularity in some regions, and the calabash resonator is part of that. Hulu in its name is Mandarin for “calabash gourd”, by the way, recognizing its importance. There are similar reed/flute instruments in China as well, such as the Sheng. <p>
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In India the gourd is also used as a resonator of reed instruments, but has in the remarkable Gopichanta (or Ektara) instrument, which is a string instrument with also a drumming/tapping function. Besides in the India region (inc. Pakistan, Nepal, and Bangladesh) a similar instrument is found in Egypt. <p>
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In Vietnam there is likewise a string instrument using a gourd/calabash resonator, called Dan Bau, known as “gourd zither”. Bau is “gourd” in Vietnamese, Dan means “string instrument”. <p>
In the Middle East and Turkey regions, the gourd resonator is found also with stringed instruments, with violins (The Kemane violin in Turkish folk music) and other string instruments, like lutes, as the Kora in (Islam-influenced parts of) Africa. <p>
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All very interesting, but not really percussion, being my main field of interest and expertise. The shaker among Amerindians in the Americas (the early Maracas: that I also wrote a blog post about), as well as scrapers, used gourd/calabash as resonators, and are more in the percussion category (idiophones, they call them). The guiro shaker in Cuba tends still to be made of calabash.. The Amerindians also knew the Peyote “rattle” made of gourd. <p>
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Yet, shakers and scrapers were also long known in Africa, also with gourd resonators, long before colonialism, so to say. <p>
<b>INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES</b><p>
It is just that the material characteristics of dried calabash (in its later domesticated form) as hard and water-resistant, made it suitable for many functions, across various cultures, as containers and carriers for households, and more, especially in subtropical and tropical climates. From Spain (where the word Calabaza – at the root of English calabash as synonym of “gourd” – appeared from Moorish Arabic, in the times of Moorish Spain, with probably Persian roots) to Vietnam, and from Turkey to Namibia, and to South America (where gourds once arrived from Africa, long before Columbus), the calabash was found useful. <p>
Yet, in culturally different ways, and here again becomes evident that “Africa is the most percussive continent” is perhaps a cliché, but certainly not nonsense. Calabash used for specifically drums or blocks are really only found on the African continent or in the African Diaspora in the Americas. Then gourds were traditionally used as resonators of musical bows (in southern Africa, like in Angola, South Africa, Zambia – the Brazilian Berimbau in Capoeira derived from this), for types of harps and lutes as the Kora in Sahel/West Africa and the Mande-speaking regions (Mali, Guinea, and around) - not to forget the precursors to the Afro-American Banjo -, marimba and balafon, both “xylophone-like” instruments in large parts of Africa (from Senegal to Mozambique).., all using calabashes/gourds as resonators. <p>
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<p>
The use for different types of shakers (shékere being the best-known) of gourd/calabash for shakers goes way back in Africa: in fact known as early as the maracas shakers among natives in the Americas. <p>
Besides in Africa, and partly among Amerindians, calabash functioned more secondary to melodic and harmony instruments (reed and string instruments) in most of Asian cultures, and seldom percussively, as in Africa. <p>
The solid, dried calabash was used across cultures and continents, but in different ways. We call these “cultural differences”, that seem predictable, but are largely true, with nuances: for string instruments in the Middle East and India, flutes/reed instruments in South East Asia, shakers/scrapers in the Americas, and for shakers/scrapers and for drums and more other percussion-like instruments in Africa. <p>
All cliché’s generalize too much, and of course most folk music – world wide! - combines to differing degrees melody-harmony-rhythm.. It’s just a matter of emphasis. Even within musical “cultural zones”. For instance the folk music of Spain and Southern Italy has relatively more “rhythmic aspects” than elsewhere in Europe, while Italian folk music (as its classical music) is more “melodic” when compared to German/Austrian more “harmonic” folk music influences. Classical music enthusiasts sometimes point at the – relative - “rhythmic” strength of Spanish classical music (by e.g. Manuel de Falla), the “harmonic” strength of German/Austrian compositions, and in turn the more “melodic” strength of Italian classical compositions. <p>
India, Indonesia, South East Asia (and the aboriginals), as well as the Middle East, of course know drum and percussion instruments as well, though often with secondary functions to more melodic or harmonic pieces. <p>
Calabash drums (and scrapers) in Africa, however also foreground Calabash musically, rhythmically, as main instrument, as it does with the other (skin-based) drums, often with polyrhythms (several rhythms at the same time), especially important and common in sub-Saharan African traditional music. <p>
Interesting, and illustrative, cultural differences therefore also show in the different historical and present calabash/gourd uses in different regions, especially its musical and wider creative use.. <p>
<b>MODERN POP</b><p>
Its present use in modern, mostly electric (“western”) “pop” or “rock” music, is of course more limited, though “calabash” as sound maker or resonator can be found as part of the added percussion sections of especially modern Afro-American genres like Reggae, Salsa, Merengue, Soca, or even Soul and Blues (and some Pop and hip-hop), often combined with electrical instruments of modern pop (electric guitar, drum kits, keyboard, etc.).. a reminder of the “acoustic era” after all at the root of all music of today. Also in Jamaican early folk music (like Mento) gourds were used, after all, not just in Cuba. This is after all often a function of “percussion sets” in modern (popular/rock) genres, especially Afro-American ones: reminding of the roots and acoustical times. <p>
More prominent in Latin styles like Salsa (Cuban-derived) and Merengue (from the Dominican Republic), but Jamaican Reggae uses the scraper (often of gourd) quite a lot in the mix (as does Salsa or Cuban Son) too, as well as some shakers made from calabash. <p>
<b>CONCLUSION</b><p>
What I can conclude from this research and reflection is that the calabash or gourd, especially as used in subtropical and tropical areas of different continents, contributed strongly to folk music globally, mostly as “resonator” (read: amplifier) for other instruments, and specifically in Africa also as primary instrument (drum, percussion) as well. It proved in fact crucial in folk and traditional music historically, due to its tough and water-resistant characteristics as the fruit got domesticated in human history, alongside of course wood, or other natural materials (clay/earthenware, mud, straw, coconut, bamboo, from animals..).
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-23294807521789797182023-11-03T06:16:00.014-07:002023-11-03T12:20:45.692-07:00Hip-Hop / Rap and I : parallel livesThis year (2023), 50 years of Hip Hop-music and –culture is celebrated. As I understood, in 1973, at an “epic” summer party in the Bronx, New York (US), Dj Kool Herc, mixed two records from different turntables (without a mixer, back then, mind you), by switching from one drum solo to the one on the other record, creating thus a continuous drum groove, on which he rapped (the "merry-go-round" technique). The rest is history, you can say.<p>
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<b>ABOUT THE SAME AGE</b><p>
If this is really the beginning, hip-hop has about the same age as me. So, a good occasion, this celebration, to reflect upon my relationship with hip-hop and rap music. I am after all a music lover, since young, and especially Black music. I also try to make songs myself. <p>
Granted, I am much more a Reggae fan than a Hip-Hop fan, but I kept an open eye for other genres. I grew up in the Netherlands (not far from Amsterdam), and got into Reggae since I was about 11 years old, around the year 1985, in the vinyl age, listening to Peter Tosh, Bob Marley, the Wailing Souls, and more and more Reggae artists. I also kept track of newer Reggae (New Roots). <p>
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Inevitably I got into contact with “pop” or more commercial music as a child (through mass media, via other people), but Rap for some reason was less on my radar back then. Some guys around me liked hard rock (Kiss), my parents played Italian or Latin/Spanish music, but I also heard some songs by Stevie Wonder, or funky sounds by James Brown I liked then. Somehow I felt “Black” music attracted me a bit more, and less “heavy electric guitar” rock music. I liked folksy rock or the Beatles a bit more, but, importantly, I liked to dance to music (limiting my interest for e.g. some melodic Italian songs, though there were nice songs between them). Some songs of Spanish crooner Julio Iglesias I admittedly liked (guilty pleasure?) – he could sing -, though maybe in part because Julio had a few more rhythmical aspects in his songs. I liked some Flamenco (from South Spain) for that reason too. <p>
<b>RAPPERS DELIGHT</b><p>
My biggest love became Reggae, however, by 1985, and it stayed like that. What in hindsight puzzles me a bit is that the well-known world Rap hit Rappers Delight (around 1981) by the Sugar Hill Gang largely escaped my attention. It probably has to do with my age or high school, as my older brother told me as that song was a hit among boys at his high school (in the Netherlands), and they even rapped along with the catchy flowing lyrics, knowing them by heart (“and do the hip hop, the hippie.. etc..”). This song must have opened many eyes of European youths toward Hip-Hop and rap from New York, and might have some made fans, who knows. When it was a hit in the Netherlands and Europe (an influential one, at that), I was just about 6 years old, so perhaps too young to get it then. <p>
Grandmaster Flash’s The Message, soon after, became also quite a hit (more "alternative", though), but I only remember that one very vaguely too from the time itself, and mostly the “project/ghetto” scenery of the video. <p>
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My music interest was since around 1985 more focused on Jamaica than on the US, perhaps unusual in the Netherlands and Europe, though some US soul, blues, or funk I liked. When I got more attention to New York hip-hop, it was already in the later 1980s and early 1990s. The interesting fact is that I viewed this hip-hop and rap from a Reggae perspective. That route is interesting I think: from Reggae to Rap.. you have it the other way around too, as well, of course, especially nowadays, and with US dominance on Western commercial pop culture. <p>
<b>YO! MTV RAPS</b><p>
This Western commercial pop culture was not my thing, and even less MTV , but when MTV aired (compensating after a - probably racist - anti-Black music policy at MTV), with Yo! MTV raps, it got some of my interest. That regular show Yo! MTV raps, luckily lacked the subtle censorship (since they were caught?) of MTV before, when it avoided Black artists besides Prince or Michael Jackson, as Yo! even gave attention to hip hop with Black awareness messages like Public Enemy, Poor Righteous Teachers, KRS One, Slick Rick, also more fun-based hip-hop too of course, big names like Run DMC, Kool Moe Dee, Biz Markie, and LL Cool J, and even gave some attention to upcoming acts. I enjoyed this often, especially the “free creativity” the young rappers showed, their “informal” ways even seeming refreshing to me. Furthermore, I liked that they were common Black people “from the streets”, to use a cliché. <p>
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That “casual” or “informal” aesthetic has of course remained a characteristic of hip-hop, haha. That is: being or acting “casual” only becomes “cool” when there is some talent involved (rendering groovy stuff), else it’s just seeming annoying. One of my brothers tended to comment when we saw mediocre rappers on tv, acting casual: “those guys seem annoying” (or in Dutch: “van die vervélende gasten, zijn dat..”). Only quality makes the casual cool (goods sentence for a Yogi Tea bag btw, haha). <p>Quality.. in other words: substance and originality.
According to the Wikipedia article on hip-hop, I fell - I was around 15 or 16 years old - into the Golden Era (Late 1980s, Early 1990s) of Hip-Hop, and indeed it seemed a good period musical-wise and “conscious”-wise to me, as far as I could tell, with artists like Public Enemy and De La Soul coming up, and Eric B & Rakim, Run DMC, LL Cool J, Queen Latifa, and others in their prime.. <p>
<b>TOASTING</b><p>
I was well into Reggae by then, and knew the “rhythmic vocalizing” – called: “toasting” – within Reggae well. “Old school” Jamaican Toasting (U Roy, I Roy, Dennis Alcapone, Trinity, Prince Jazzbo, U Brown) from the 1970s tended to be rhythmical, but meandering around the beat (like a percussionist, so to speak), but by the 1980s a straighter “on the beat” rhythmic flow had developed in Jamaica as well, starting with Early Dancehall singers (also called DJ’s in Jamaica) like Lone Ranger, Admiral Tibet, Charlie Chaplin, and Brigadier Jerry, continuing with later artists like Capleton, Burro Banton, or Buju Banton and Sizzla even later. <p>
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Well now, that later “on the beat” Toasting of 1980s Reggae, of people like Lone Ranger can be seen as a vocal precursor to the likewise “straight” style of Rapping of US rappers: on the beat. While earlier “free” toasters like U-Roy certainly also influenced hip-hop culture, originating the whole aesthetic of rhythmically vocalizing on existing music (instrumental versions of vocal songs). I even am willing to argue that Wear You To The Ball, an early, 1970 U Roy single on existing music (on song by Jamaican group the Paragons), was the first Rap-like studio recording ever. <p>
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The specific style of Toasting that developed in Jamaica by the 1980s (heard on 1980 and 1981 songs already, such as Lone Ranger’s Love Bump above), was also a precursor to Rapping, though. Perhaps coincidence, as everyone can hear the beat and choose to rap on it or not, but the direct influence of Jamaican music and Reggae on New York Hip-Hop has been more than proven. Key pioneering figures, including the mentioned pioneer DJ Kool Herc, were of Jamaican descent, knowing Jamaica’s sound system and Toasting culture. DJ Kool Herc also liked James Brown, he said, explaining that direction of hip-hop. <p>
The musical shift from Jamaican (Rocksteady, Reggae) riddims to US Black music in New York, but with the same principle, further gave hip-hop its own identity. <p>
<b>OLDER SCHOOL</b><p>
When I got more into hip-hop, around my 15th year of age, the older school-hip-hop (not the oldest) of the day was based on samples or instrumental parts of songs by often James Brown, George Clinton, or other Funk greats.. funky licks and riffs that were good to rap on, with extensive lyrics telling stories, rather than repeating phrases as in pop songs with, also making it interesting. <p>
I was intrigued by the mere creativity of this sampled hip-hop, also with regard to the videos accompanying songs, showing other urban worlds (New York then mainly). Another aspect that I appreciated were the poignant, direct lyrics in hip-hop – social commentary from the streets -, even without the repetition of phrases as in other genres, the message came across, often through forceful delivery, very creative word play and rhyming, or a good flow. Especially (but others as well), in my opinion, Chuck D – of Public Enemy - was a master in that, with “cool” sentences and lyrics I still remember, forming often “poems within poems”, while expressing social commentary about racial injustice: “<i>Something ain’t right. Treated like dynamite. Gonna blow you up, and it just might</i>..”, is one of those poems within a poem. “<i>Bruised, battered, and scarred, but hard</i>”, another cool sentence I remember by Chuck D (from song Black Steel In The Hour Of Chaos). <p>
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For a period I even knew some Public Enemy lyrics by heart, of some songs at least: it went that far. <p>
Did this influence me so much as to become a hip-hop fan, instead of Reggae? Nope: I stayed primarily a Reggae fan, interchanged a bit more with some hip-hop I liked, hip-hop having after all Jamaican connections. I bought Public Enemy albums, and a few other hip-hop albums (De La Soul, Eric B & Rakim, LL Cool J.). <p>
As I stayed more within the Reggae realm, I did not follow developments closely “on the foot” within hip-hop, but mostly from aside, so to speak. It was not really my subculture, usually, and did not know all insiders' “codes” such subcultures imply. Some songs I kind of liked, but with the “newer” school of hip-hop, I lost the touch more and more, safe some artists. <p>
I encountered some Netherlands-based, Dutch hip-hop as well over time, also of differing quality, with Black artists generally (and predictably) better in it, though some White Dutchmen (like Extince) could actually rap, on funky beats, to groovy effect, even making it work in the Dutch language. <p>
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Some was definitely corny or fake (Holiday Rap was whack), but not all, haha. Britain’s Derek B seemed somewhat “forced” to me, but here and there some “okay” non-US hip-hop was made, such as in Italy (e.g. by Jovanotti). Also the laid-back style of French rapper MC Solaar I liked, for instance. <p>
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I noticed of course that, while I remained a Reggae man, that hip-hop reached the mainstream relatively more than Reggae, and influenced pop. European early 1980s “copying” efforts, sometimes to “fun” effect, such as Pino D’Angio Ma Quale Idea (1981), the “rapping” Flamenco-like Spanish 1982 song about the tv series Dallas’s JR character, A JR,(though singer Pepe Da Rosa, claimed he followed rhythmic Flamenco traditions, and did not follow Rap). Ironically, he rapped better than the early Dutch “rap” hit” MC Miker G and DJ Sven’s Holiday Rap, according to me, at least. <p>
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With local, national hip-hop/rap scenes in several European countries this “copying” went further, and deeper, without the ironic distance, but with devotion. Of what I heard, some was okay. <p>
<b>PARALLELS</b><p>
Apart from hip-hop’s influence on me (also slipping through in some cases on my music making and composing), that parallel development of Reggae and hip-hop, reveals quite some interesting aspects of musical developments of two Black music genres in the Americas, in time influencing each other. <p>
One aspect, though not really positive, was the commercialization of less-conscious hip-hop, of course in the interest of the “powers that be” that Public Enemy protested against, powers that be that are remarkably crafty in “defusing unwanted explosions/bombs”, by destroying or weakening resistance from within (but after their input from outside). A similar strategy seemed to have – by the way - worked effectively with the world wide Left or Liberal in Europe and the US, mostly de facto adhering now to (right-wing) neoliberal capitalism as well, and even blindly following propaganda, or totalitarian tendencies. <p>
Gangster Rap – and its increased popularity during the 1990s - started this corrupting “negativity” in my opinion, and I was kind of shocked by the cynical lyrics on some NWA albums, and also videos of that new Gangster Rap, had a vibe I liked less, making me return to Reggae more strongly, keeping more distance of hip-hop, also because I never really became a Dr Dré/West Coast hip-hop fan. <p>
<b>SLACK</b><p>
There is a parallel here with Jamaican music. The “slack” (explicit, violent/sexual) lyrics of modern Dancehall music in Jamaica, lacked the conscious, rebellious lyrics of earlier Roots Reggae. Conscious Reggae was still made, and I chose to listen to that, but “powers that be” in Jamaica, also tried to make superficial, sometimes violent/sexual lyrics – though overall a bit less cynical in content than US gangster rap – more popular than lyrics criticizing “the system”, status quo, inequalities, or injustices. Among many youths, this strategy partly worked – Dancehall is nowadays relatively more popular among Jamaican youth, than Reggae -, but not fully. <p>
As hip-hop with better messages co-exists alongside the gangster nonsense, also conscious Reggae kept being made, and also conscious lyrics on Dancehall music arose. The New Roots school in Jamaican Reggae, represented by artists like Sizzla, Luciano, Richie Spice, Lutan Fyah, Junior Kelly, or Anthony B. had a fan base in Jamaica too, not just among Reggae fans outside of Jamaica, keeping thus the “conscious” and message flame alive. Some youths in Jamaica like that too, even though “spectacular” Dancehall of people like Vybz Kartel or Mr. Vegas seems more popular or fashionable. <p>
Like in hip-hop, though, many less-conscious people, or even those living or aspiring to a life of crime, eschewed too deep and conscious lyrics, preferring fun, or worse: more spectacular sex- or violence aimed lyrics. In relative numbers that is. Hip-hop is moreover “in the belly of the capitalist beast”, in the US, with larger corporations and more money to shape tastes, making Eminem – with in my opinion largely nonsense lyrics, and mediocre beats/songs – one of the most successfully selling artist, to name one thing. <p>
<b>POPULARITY</b><p>
A main difference is also one I discussed before on my blog: a song’s popularity is decided in Jamaica from the bottom-up, really the grassroots: in the dancehalls – at local dances -, among common (poor) people, a song’s appeal is tested, so to speak, then becomes popular and demanded, and artists popular. In the US, commercial corporations try to direct popular tastes to a stronger degree (though not always succeeding), more “from above” and “top down”. This difference remained, up to today. <p>
The New Roots Reggae in Jamaica, meanwhile, has Rap-like toasting or – as it is called today in Jamaica “chatting” - too as its vocals, often continuing on the “on the beat” straighter style since the 1980s, but not quite. The “sing-jay style” is a Jamaican invention – and a common vocal approach among a part of New Roots artists, combining toasted/rhythmical “chatted” parts – mostly the verses – and more or less “sung” choruses. <p>
<b>CHATTING</b><p>
Those toasted/chatted parts have in their groovy flow some similarities with better hip-hop, but have own Jamaican characteristics, even beyond language/accent, e.g. in accentuation. A hip-hop influence reached some Jamaican New Reggae artists like Protoje and Kabaka Pyramid too, though even those artists could at the same time draw on own, older Jamaican toasting traditions since the early 1970s, that in turn go back – of course – to the African roots (vocal rhythm on rhythms). Protoje even achieved widening his fan base with some hip-hop fans, making his concerts relatively much visited, or earlier sold out. I like Protoje’s chatting/vocalizing style, even if at times Rap/hip-hop like, because it tends to have musically a good, groovy flow on the riddims/music. <p>
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The same applies to Capleton or Sizzla, in turn influencing hip-hop artists in the US, such as Busta Rhymes (of Jamaican descent), who said his style was influenced by Jamaican artists like Capleton, which is quite audible, even on some of Busta’s big hits like Fire It Up. <p>
The Jamaican vocal “rap”/chat style has a (somewhat more musical) “dramatic development” – working toward a peak, speeding up vocally - in Jamaican New Roots chatting, is besides more musical, also an interesting African heritage (some relate this to spirit possession traditions of old), a bit less present (though not absent) in US hip-hop, tending to continue the same flow, though with some additions. <p>
<b>DIGITAL DANCEHALL</b><p>
Modern Jamaican Dancehall I got into more recently, so even after hip-hop, while Reggae remained my main interest, as said, before Hip-hop, and during and above it. The digital straight Dancehall riddims/music attracted me less, preferring myself a live music feel. <p>
Some Dancehall riddims, though, I found groovy and well-made, even if digital. They show a rhythmic complexity (the Flip Riddim, where Dancehall group's Ward 21's song Style is on, for instance), with several layers, while digital hip-hop rhythms – especially when newly made, not just samples from James Brown songs like before - tend to be less complex or layered when compared to Dancehall, though some hip-hop added nice effects. This can relate to a stronger maintained African polyrhythmic heritage in Jamaica, as rapping (rhythm on rhythm) is an African retention, but can be more “advanced” or varied, or simpler. Hip-hop rhythms are simpler (less polyrhythm) than Dancehall rhythms, even the latter’s digital ones. Vocals of course adapt/relate to that. <p>
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This “easier rhythm” may explain the “easier” spread among White or European people of hip-hop, but of course along with US dominance on culture in a country like the Netherlands, and perhaps language (US English/Jamaican) issues. <p>
Not to say that there is no other creativity in hip-hop, also evident in golden era-hip hop, with new subgenres, and more musical layers in songs, notwithstanding the relative simple rhythm. This often simple rhythm could be the result of creative sampling, or have that around the main beat (slight syncope or polyrhythm), along with some instrumentation (bass, piano), sampled or not. The repeated bass riff in the beat of Public Enemy’s Black Steel In The Hour Of Chaos is magnificent, to give an example. Still inventive with some groovy or funky effects, hip-hop showed to be, but simple and relatively straightforward in a purely rhythmical sense.. <p>
It is kind of ironic that a wealthier, powerful country like the US (though with many disadvantaged Blacks, of course), have less-sophisticated or developed rhythms, than a “developing economy” and poorer country in the Caribbean. <p>
Or perhaps it is not ironic.. The poorer the country, the richer the culture? And rhythm is the heartbeat of culture..<p>
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Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-12360373318969444342023-10-03T22:26:00.009-07:002023-10-04T10:15:28.642-07:00Reggae music lovers (in the Netherlands): Eve Lien DubwiseHow people got to be reggae music lovers or fans has always fascinated me. Maybe partly because reggae still is off/outside the mainstream, also in the Netherlands. It is not found that easily, let’s just say. It requires (to a degree) an extraordinary life path: that is, different from copying the masses, or simply following what’s commonly on television or the radio. <p>
Reggae has of course since decades gone international and widened its fan base, but I have known individually quite different reggae fans within the Netherlands. Black and white (and Asian, or mixed etc.). Males and females. Old and young. Some with little education, some highly educated. Of different class backgrounds. Some combine liking reggae quite equally with other genres (e.g.: some with African, funk, soul, some with hip-hop, some even with non-black music genres), while others on the other hand adhere almost “strictly” to reggae music, and do not get into much else. Some like roots reggae more than dancehall or vice versa. There are even reggae fans – believe it or not - who do not smoke the “ganja herb”. <p>
Furthermore, some have an interest or sympathy for the related subject of Rastafari, some do not, or even despise it. The latter, despise, I find somewhat odd since Rastafari is not the same as reggae, but is nonetheless connected to it. <p>
These differences (and similarities) between and among reggae fans/lovers intrigue me, also in relation to personal backgrounds. That’s the reason why I would like to interview specific individuals who love reggae. <p>
Before this I have interviewed 12 persons – reggae lovers I know, “breddas” (meaning “brothers”, or "friends" in Jamaican parlance) or "sistas" of mine – here in the Netherlands. <p>
I started the series on this blog with a post of June 2012, when I interviewed <a href="http://michelconci.blogspot.com/2012/06/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands.html">Abenet</a>. In April of 2013 I interviewed <a href="">Bill</a>. After this I interviewed <a href="http://michelconci.blogspot.com/2014/05/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands.html">Manjah Fyah</a>, in May 2014. For my blog post of August 2015, I interviewed, somewhat more extensively, <a href="http://michelconci.blogspot.com/2015/08/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands.html">(DJ) Rowstone (Rowald)</a>. In August 2016, then, I interviewed <a href="http://michelconci.blogspot.com/2016/08/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands-vega.html">Vega Selecta</a>. In October 2017, I interviewed <a href="http://michelconci.blogspot.com/2017/10/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands-dj.html">DJ Ewa</a>. Then, for my post of September 2018, I interviewed for the first time a woman, namely <a href="https://michelconci.blogspot.com/2018/09/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands.html">Empress Messenjah or Empress Donna Lee</a>. In August 2019 I interviewed another woman, namely <a href="https://michelconci.blogspot.com/2019/08/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands.html">Sound Cista</a>. For my blog post of September 2020 I interviewed another Reggae-loving woman, French but living in the Netherlands, <a href="https://michelconci.blogspot.com/2020/09/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands.html">Selectress Aur'El</a>. For my blog post of September 2021 I interviewed again a "bloke" (fun way to say" "man") selecta <a href="https://michelconci.blogspot.com/2021/09/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands.html">Hobbol Backawall</a>, and in my blog post of September 2022, I interviewed again a woman, <a href="https://michelconci.blogspot.com/2022/09/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands.html">Mystic Tammy</a> <p>
<b>EVE LIEN DUBWISE</b>
<p>
This time, October 2023, I interviewed another woman, one that I recently met in the Amsterdam Reggae scene. I might have seen her around before, but I got to talk to her for the first time earlier in this year 2023. She is called Eve Lien, and was when we first spoke “selecting” – playing as Reggae dee-jay – at Café Havelaar in central Amsterdam (close to Spui). There earlier in 2023, there were still weekly, Wednesday Reggae sessions under the title Rocking Time, with varying selecta’s/dee-jay’s from the Reggae scene. I played there sometimes too. <p>
Nice place, Café Havelaar, though with a “low ceiling”: I was aided a bit by my South European genes (Dutch men tend to be taller), but I had to be careful with some of my (Masai-inspired) dances involving “jumping”, haha. <p>
Some memorable moments at Café Havelaar: Lila Ike – the Jamaican singer – trying out some selecting after her show, semi-incognito (two latin words, ha!), the interesting Mexican Reggae band Leones Negros (Black Lions) with a nice, groovy performance with sound and even instruments. Plus: the many (mainly local) selecta’s/dee-jay’s playing good Reggae and Dub music, from records: mostly vinyl.. anything between old and new Roots Reggae, Early Reggae, and UK Steppers and more experimental Dub, was played during those Rocking Time sessions. <p>
Due to some conflict, these Havelaar Reggae sessions came to a premature end before the Summer of 2023, but in one of these last ‘Rocking Time’ sessions at Café Havelaar (June, 2023), Eve Lien, my interviewee now, could still try a selecta/dj session with her (vinyl) records. Good selection, I remembered, including also old Roots Reggae, besides what I call “nowadays King Shiloh-music” (incl. steppers). <p>
Later, hearing/seeing more from her (also online, via social media), I noticed she was really a King Shiloh sound system fan, but also of other “crucial” Reggae and Dub sound systems, also those she travelled to places like Germany, Italy, France (Dubcamp!) and London UK (Notting Hill carnival!!) - or elsewhere - for, Dutch-based and international, including “sounds” like: Indica Dubs, Rootical HiFi, Covenant sound (NL), Rootical HiFi, but also Channel One in London, and Ariwa/Mad Professor’s sound system. She also went to Reggae festivals, like Reggae Geel in Belgium. <p>
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<p>
This she shared on her Facebook page, so I got an idea of her interests: she surely loved those “big speakers” Reggae/Dub sound systems, but Reggae in general, I deduced. <p>
After the Rocking Time sessions at Café Havelaar in central Amsterdam had to end - around the Summer of 2023 - Oliwia (selectress name: Pinedub) - and other organizers - searched other places for Reggae selecta/dj sessions in Amsterdam. They eventually encountered open arms at the - Reggae-minded - Earth Works music studio, with Ben King as custodian. It is at the grounds of the ADM-terrain (free artistic area), in the North of Amsterdam.<p>
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<p>
Somewhat peripheral at the brink of Amsterdam-North, Earth Works studio, but a nice place, combining a recording studio (where local musicians, but also Jamaicans like Micah Shemaiah came to record), with a record store, a record "burner" even, a “chill out zone”, and.. a sound/equipment for Reggae selecta’s/dee-jays to play their records. Selecta’s known from the Amsterdam Reggae scene played there (like they did in Café Havelaar) – some of whom I interviewed before on this blog -, I was selecta there also once, but also Eve Lien could continue at Earth Works her selecting and dj-efforts, playing good (also older) Reggae also from vinyl. She did this several times until recently before I write this (October, 2023), mostly in the weekends. <p>
Besides this what she shared, I still did not know so much about her. I noticed some “exotic looks”, but she spoke Dutch well, unlike Italian, Polish, French, Spanish, or Balkanic bredren and sistren, I also know from the Amsterdam Reggae/Dub scene. I found it therefore interesting to know more about Eve Lien Dubwise – as is her FB name -, and her evident passion for Reggae music, and asked her the following questions, which she gladly answered (translated from Dutch). <p>
<b>Where were you born and did you grow up?</b> <p>
<i>I was born in Gdansk, Poland, but I grew up in Hoek van Holland, the Netherlands.
I am Polish myself too.</i> <p>
<b>Since when (age) do you listen Reggae music?</b> <p>
<i>As a teenager I on rare occasions listened to Reggae songs, from Natural Mystic and Masada for instance. I think that from about my 25th years of age, I really started to listen to Reggae much more. </i> <p>
<b>What attracted you to it, then?</b> <p>
<i>The tranquility it gave me, and the lyrics.</i> <p>
<b>What other music genres did you listen to?</b> <p>
<i>Reggaetón, moombahton (a Reggaetón-influenced House genre), dancehall, Nigerian pop music, R&B, hardcore.</i> <p>
<b>Has there been a change in your musical preferences since then?</b> <p>
<i>Yes, because now I mainly listen to Roots Reggae and Dub.</i> <p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-oaN82j7h5doch_Lxuo81DVMvp9SXroVI1rRp0hJBGeiVFoZRAttqJBfpQnBPuqGxvUiy2GgqV2nD8g5aXeJaPf06dOnQln0cY57D3i7kJt48XzEfmNt1nvXSQ2gjuxvrcsfGc51Okh8QSVXNSpGDQ9kHcpbccxiPPMJ9XPkkc0AM6871IbYmqHhlr1g/s206/Evelien-Costa%20Rica.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="202" data-original-width="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-oaN82j7h5doch_Lxuo81DVMvp9SXroVI1rRp0hJBGeiVFoZRAttqJBfpQnBPuqGxvUiy2GgqV2nD8g5aXeJaPf06dOnQln0cY57D3i7kJt48XzEfmNt1nvXSQ2gjuxvrcsfGc51Okh8QSVXNSpGDQ9kHcpbccxiPPMJ9XPkkc0AM6871IbYmqHhlr1g/s320/Evelien-Costa%20Rica.jpg"/></a></div> <p>
<b>Do you have any preferences within the broad Reggae genre? Does, e.g., Digital Dancehall appeal to you as much as Roots Reggae?</b> <p>
<p>
<i>I prefer to listen to Roots Reggae from the 1970s, and to Dub, and not so much the “newer” Dub styles, with a few exceptions.</i> <p>
<b>Since when are you a Reggae selectress/dee-jay?</b> <p>
<i>Haha, I am not “really” a selectress yet, I think, but I am seriously working on it. I think I can describe myself best as an “upcoming” selectress. <p>
The very first time I really could play as selectress was at Café Havelaar (Amsterdam), which was – I believe – in June, 2023.</i> <p>
<b>Do you have a preference for Vinyl or Digital/CD? As listener, and as selecta/selectress?</b> <p>
<i>As selectress strictly Vinyl, at home both vinyl and Digital.</i> <p>
<b>Any special experiences or encounters over the years (e.g. with producers or artists)?</b> <p>
<i>At Rastaplas (Reggae festival in the Netherlands, near The Hague) I met Brother Neil from King Shiloh. This was very special for me, because King Shiloh is one of my favourite sound systems</i>
<p>
<b>Are you active in other ways within the Reggae scene as well? E.g. radio, organizing events, design, or otherwise?</b> <p>
<i>I go regularly to sessions and festivals, and recently I started to spin/play regularly as selectress from vinyl at Earth Works (Amsterdam).</i> <p>
<b>Do you play any musical instruments? </b><p>
<i>I used to play organ, and still can play a little, although I forgot how to read notes.</i> <p>
<b>Does the Rastafari message in much of Reggae appeal to you? How does this relate to your own background, or beliefs?</b> <p>
<i>I am not a Rasta myself, but I certainly agree with aspects, such as the equal treatment of people, “do good, and good will follow”. </i><p>
<b>What kind of music (reggae) do you prefer to listen to now – at this moment -, what specific artists? Any new “discoveries” you would like to mention?</b> <p>
<i>Twinkle Brothers, The Gladiators, Danny Red, Horace Andy, Dub Dynasty. <p>
New discovery; Henry Skeng. </i><p>
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<b>Other things you would like to mention?</b> <p>
<i>“It’s better to be hated for what you are, than be loved for something you are not”</i> <p>
<b>REFLECTION AND COMPARISON</b><p>
Well, within the constraints of time of us both, I am still glad that she, Eve Lien Dubwise, could answer some questions. Indeed, I learned some things about her I did not quite know. <p>
These include her Polish background, being born in Gdansk (the German occupiers called it Danzig), a toponym I always found funny/intriguing, with a remarkable combining of consonants, making Polish words – or surnames – sometimes difficult to pronounce for non-Poles. Anyway, it maybe explains her connection to Polish people like Pinedub or Vega Selecta, and others, in the Amsterdam Reggae scene, but that’s cool and understandable too. <p>
She additionally told me that she initially did not know there were so many Polish people in the (Amsterdam) Reggae scene. <p>
I noticed these Poles in the Amsterdam Reggae scene early on (even more than 15 years ago), and in an <a href="http://michelconci.blogspot.com/2016/08/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands-vega.html">earlier</a> (2016) interview I did for this series with Vega Selecta (also Polish), I learned it might be linked to the active rebellious and underground Punk, anarchist scene (with also Reggae influences) during the communist regime in Poland, up to 1990. There is thus also a connection with the (anarchic) Squatter scene in e.g. Amsterdam. <p>
Eve Lien’s Reggae preference is toward (older) Roots Reggae, so that she shares with me. I listen to Dub less, but can appreciate some of it, if not too digital or Euro “Techno” like, but that is a matter of taste. <p>
Eve Lien is a King Shiloh sound fan, and I've been to their sessions too. I liked these often, but to my taste, sometimes a bit too much digital “steppers” was played (personally I prefer with actual musical instruments), but mostly still nice or audible, and just danceable enough. Other sound systems Eve Lien mentions and visits play more (older) Roots Reggae. <p>
Nice also how she could practice her skills as “upcoming selectress” – as she calls herself – also at Earth Works studio in North Amsterdam, alongside other Reggae selecta’s/dee-jay’s like DJ Ewa, Selectress Aur’El, Pinedub, the Zen Rockers, Sound Cista, Jah Code, Loddy Culture, and several others, who play from Rocksteady and Early Reggae, via Roots Reggae, and New Roots, to Dub, and Steppers.
<p>
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Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-24286735165652556172023-09-02T07:48:00.009-07:002023-09-02T09:34:02.096-07:00Hausa musicMore active in percussion for over 10 years now - beyond privately: composing/releasing compositions and performing -, I can conclude that my own percussion style may have been influenced by different sources, related to my personal trajectory and preferences. Like with other instruments (bass, guitar, drum etc.), I after all noticed that each percussion player I know has his or her own style.. <p>
In the case of percussion, with many bigger and smaller instruments, an “own style” can apply to both choice(s) of instrument(s), as patterns/playing style for each instrument (e.g. congas or bells). <p>
<b>OWN STYLE</b><p>
I love Reggae music, so that is an influence. Afro-Cuban music and percussion – having been several times to Cuba – another one. African traditional music also had my interest, partly as part of the wider African Diaspora approach I take to music. I always found the African retentions in Black American music genres, and in folk music in the Caribbean and Latin America, intriguing. Obvious in music of Vodou, Santeriá, or Jamaican Kumina, more subtle – in gradations - in popular or “secular” music genres as Rumba, Samba, Salsa, Cumbia, Merengue, Reggae, Calypso, Blues, etcetera. <p>
<b>AFRICAN DIASPORA</b><p>
This African Diaspora approach made me look at Africa as a direct percussion source. Personally, I got most interest in music from Southern Nigeria – Yoruba and Igbo -, and a bit less (though not absent) for the Guinea and Senegambia regions. <p>Other percussionists I know specialized more in “Guinea/Senegambia”, mostly Djembe enthusiasts. I, in turn, specialized a bit more in Southern Nigeria, percussion-wise, you might say. Neither this is exclusive, and more parts of Africa I studied (notably Congo and Uganda, besides Guinea), but somehow it was easier to find information on, say, Yoruba music, and bordering areas. Patterns, playing styles, and instruments from roughly South Nigeria, all helped to find my own style. Illustratively of my particular path, I got and played an Ashiko drum (drum of Yoruba origin), before I started (about a year later) playing the better known Djembe (Mande/Guinea/Mali origin). <p>
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This influence shows not so much in instruments, but in patterns. Congas I play regularly, and are of Afro-Cuban origin, with strong Congo/African influences, but patterns for other drums can be played on them too, of course. Similarly “round” shaped, open-bottom drums can moreover be found in large parts of sub-Saharan Africa (also in e.g. Benin and Ghana). <p>
This being said, South Nigeria’s percussive influence on me, a question imposes itself. Why specifically South Nigeria, and not other parts of Nigeria, like the North-Centre parts, where the Hausa are a large ethnic group. What about Hausa music? <p>
It is kind of odd, since I received some Guinea influences, having had in time Djembe lessons, learning patterns from Guinea and South Mali, yet I did not really got into Hausa music directly. <p>
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<b>HAUSA</b><p>
The Hausa consist of a large ethnic group, mostly Sunni Muslims, in a.o. Northern Nigeria and Niger, speaking an own Afro-Asiatic (Chadic) language. They are however largely of African descent, according to genetic studies related to Nilotic groups (such as in South Sudan). Some geneticists assume alongside this about 45% of the DNA of Hausa from Afro-Asiatic language speakers, others assume less (estimating more Nilotic DNA), and only regionally, suggesting thus cultural over ethnic influences. Some sources state that “Hausa” refers not so much to a race or nation, but rather to a common language and culture. <p>
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Anyway, degree of racial mixture aside, the Islamic influence became strong on the Hausa, shaping – some say: “de-Africanizing” - their culture. The Hausa live in quite a wide area of Northern Nigeria, but are also important in Niger, and are substantial minorities in other countries like Ghana, Chad, Benin, or Cameroon, sometimes mixed with the also Islamic Fulani. Northern Nigeria (Kano state) and Southern Niger are either way the strongholds of Hausa culture. <p>
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With a total of about 80 million members – or Hausa language speakers- , the Hausa people, are one of the largest ethnicities of the region. <p>
<p>
Negatively put, as described in some (South) Nigerian sources, the stronger influence of/conversion to Islam of the Hausa, limited the traditional African heritage in favour of Islamic norms and prohibitions. Positively put, you can say that Islam and Arab influences mixed uniquely with local, present African culture, into a new culture. <p>
Culture is after all not just about heritage and authenticity – however crucial -, but also about creativity and innovation. <p><iframe width="430" height="242" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1w2kq2PVS_0?si=Yj190NRyMHdtxF60" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen></iframe><p>
The truth is in fact something in between, I think. Islam limited and destroyed parts of the traditional African culture (and music), but only partly, and incorporated some of it into a new mix. The conquerers‘ religion got hierarchically the upper hand, though, as did later colonizers, the British, bringing Christianity. <p>
<b>IRONIES</b><p>
Traditional African music in Northern Nigeria was thus more affected/conscribed (“Islamicized”) than e.g. Yoruba or Igbo music in Southern Nigeria, at least in an earlier stage. There was of course a strong British colonial and Christian influence in South Nigeria, but in a later stage in history, and more indirectly. <p>
There are some interesting ironies here, and some “painful” ones too. The Islamic conversion since mainly the 13th c. among the Hausa, created a stronger central rule before the British came, than in the South, seemingly representing a cultural “defense”. This Hausa culture was however not fully indigenous, bearing strong influences of pre-European, but non-African Arab invaders bringing the Islam. This same Islam historically also could work on occasion against “African solidarity”, as the history of Yoruba enslavement shows. <p>
When the (Hausa-Fulani) Jihad – Islamic conquests - spread southwards in the early decades of 19th c., many Hausa conquered non-Islamic Yoruba in SW Nigeria, enslaving them. While Britain had by then formally abolished the slave trade (some illegal trade continued), France, Spain and Portugal still needed slave workers, especially in Cuba, where plantations increased, being the reason why many Yoruba ended up in Cuba and Brazil, especially brought by Portuguese slave traders (also for Spanish colonies), but often bought from Hausa middle-men, holding Yoruba as war captives. That is the painful part, I guess. <p>
The irony is that in present-day Nigeria, superficially the South (with big cities like Lagos and Ibadan) seems more Christianized and thus Anglicized/Westernized – in part -, while the largely Hausa North seems to have maintained an own strong (Islamic-based) culture as seeming counterweight to the colonial influence. <p>
As shown, though, the influence of earlier external conquerors (Arabs), already diluted and limited, its indigineous Africanness. <p>
<b>HAUSA MUSIC</b><p>
To focus on the positive: what is maintained or perhaps reworked interestingly, of the traditional culture, including musical forms, in Hausa-land? One can focus on “traditional purity”, but of course the mixing of cultural influences resulted throughout history, and on different continents, in interesting new musical genres. “Black music” in the Americas, I already mentioned (think e.g. also of Jazz), but “different cultures mixing”, one also finds in e.g. (South Spanish) Flamenco music, Italian Tarantella, Greek music, Turkish influence on Balkan (Croatian, Serbian, Bosnian, Albanian) music, some genres with mixed influences in India or Madagascar, and some Ethiopian genres. Perhaps being something like the process of “taking the best of both worlds”. <p>
Did interesting “own” musical genres arise among the Hausa, perhaps also percussively interesting for someone like me? <p>
Besides this, folk culture has the inherent beauty of resilience against authorities, and against all odds, I love so much. The totalitarian, prohibitive aspects of organized religion (Christianity or Islam) need not wipe out or even dominate local indigenous culture, only limiting it maybe. <p>The also nominally Islamicized Guinea, South-Mali, Northern Ghana, Northern Sierra Leone and Ivory Coast and Senegambia (Sahel Africa), often Mande-speaking, regions, definitively have developed an own interesting culture, also regarding percussion, with the Djembe instrument as prime example, only the djembe’s goblet shape (similar to the Darbuka’s) betraying Middle Eastern influences, but further part of an African-based mixture, with Islam only an element. More “swing” besides polyrhythm, Islamic adaptations, but a same focus on rhythm, dancing, and communal story-telling, such as through travelling “griots” (folk musicians, “jeli’), as in other parts of Africa. <p>
There is also some beauty in the creativity of culture: the popular inventiveness to create something new from what is there, without remaining “stuck” in inherited traditions. This can also be organically and collectively, especially in Africa, for cultural reasons. <p>
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<b>INSTRUMENTS AND PATTERNS</b><p>
Drums are used in Hausa culture, at times dominantly (especially the Talking Drums), but not in an extensive or very multifaceted way. Not always dominant in the sense of “central” to the musical piece, as more to the South in Africa (with combined drum rhythms). Drumming serves more to underline vocals or other instruments, and at most helps “meander” the main musical accompaniment. The hourglass-shaped ‘Kalungu’ Talking Drum is nonetheless a steady accompanier of both urban and rural music, as some other kettle drums, usually somewhat high-pitched and often played with sticks, rather than with hands, and some other percussion instruments. Playing styles tend to be “meandering”, as said, and not “staccato” or “straight” rhythms (as in Congo/South Nigeria), but more akin to Darbuka playing styles in the Middle East and North Africa. <p>
<b>TALKING DRUM </b><p>
The Talking Drum (called "Kalungu" among the Hausa) is typically African, and in fact as common among the Yoruba in SW Nigeria, as well as elsewhere (Guinea/Mali/Senegambia and Ghana). It is found in both regions with or without Islamic/Arab influences, so is indigenous to Africa, mimicking often the tonal languages in parts of Africa (at least the Yoruba language). The Kalungu among the Hausa is relatively big: the Yoruba know bigger and smaller sizes Talking Drums, Dagomba in Ghana bigger ones, Mande-speaking peoples (Guinea a.a.) in turn smaller sizes. The difference is that the Talking Drum (known as Gangan) is among the Yoruba (and Mande-speaking people) only one of several drums with prominent roles - drowning in wider drums, you might say - and remains more dominant/audible among the Hausa.
<p>
Other instruments among the Hausa are the Goje (one-stringed fiddle), trumpets, and flutes. The Goje is somewhat similar to the Ethiopian Masenqo instrument, also one-stringed. So, apart from a Middle Eastern influence, it can be an Eastern African one too, in light of the genes from Nilotic (South) Sudanese people found in the Hausa. <p>
Interestingly, but explainable, the “bells” seem less common – though not absent - among the Hausa, being more crucial in both Yoruba and Igbo music in South Nigeria. The same applies to shakers. On some occasions the bell types of neighbouring peoples like the Yoruba or Igbo are “borrowed”. <p>
In more rural parts of Hausa-land, ancient spiritual traditions are kept alive, including the invoking of ancestor spirits, besides nominal Islam. Here more African aspects and even bells are used in the music. Yet, even in “mainstream” Hausa culture, such as with urban songs for the Emir, African culture remains, such as the Kalungu “talking drum”, also found among the Yoruba, and in Guinea, which has no original equivalent in the Arab world, and is thus African. <p>
Less pitch changes or polyrhythm than more to the South, but still a focus on drumming, as with some kettle drums, also used in Hausa celebrations. Other aspects of Hausa culture, like trumpet and flute use, or the importance of horses, show other influences, so there is an own, not uninteresting cultural mix. <p>
I find as percussionist the most interesting – and potentially educational - the importance of the Talking Drum – relatively big ones - among the Hausa -, kept underneath the arm to change the pitch, played with bent stick. I play a smaller talking drum (from another part of Nigeria), sometimes, in the same way (one hand a bowed stick, other hand hitting on skin too). <p>
Remnants of call-and-response singing are also there in official Hausa celebrations, as elsewhere in (also non-Islamic) sub-Saharan Africa, again pointing at mixture, and cultural survival. <p>
<b>DANCING</b><p>
About "dancing" - of course related to musical structures - and differences between the Hausa or Yoruba, Igbo or other dancing, I found less information. Characteristically African, exuberant, hip and pelvic movements among the Yoruba and Igbo confirm what many people imagine of Black African dancing, along with at times acrobatic moves, and indeed dancing is important in these cultures. There is common dancing among Hausa too, but it seems more modest/contained or "stiff", which might relate to different male-female relations, and Islamic inhibitions regarding too free female dancing, seeming sensual, even if the hip and buttocks follow the rhythms, as a way to enjoy the music in the African tradition. They are not always as "sexual" as they seem.<p>Nonetheless, there are some dances known as "acrobatic" among the Hausa too.<p>
<b>TWO THEORIES</b><p>
Musically and historically the Hausa are thus interesting. Some theories I studied before (and partly discussed on this blog) seem relevant to further contextualize Hausa music. <p>
<b>GRIOT AND FOREST AFRICA</b><p>
The distinction between “Griot (Sahel) Africa” and “forest, polyrhythm” Africa, made by Western anthropologists like Robert Farris-Thompson, is certainly relevant here. The Islamic influence shared with Guinea/Mali/Senegambia created a “swing” aspect in musical patterns, i.e. going/gliding “around” a basic beat (like guitars/strings), and not straight drum-based rhythms as in “forest Africa” (South Ghana, South Nigeria, Benin, Congo), several simultaneously, around a clave (“key”). This lack of this “key pattern”, explains also the scarcer use of bells or shakers in Hausa music. This type of “time-keeping” was simply less needed, in the meandering, Arab-influenced music, less focused on combining multiple rhythms. <p>
Rather, Griot African music (including Hausa music) is swinging around a beat like string instruments (e.g. the Kora) do, distantly related to the vocal melisma (stretching syllables to different notes) of singing in Islam-influenced cultures (including Flamenco), or perhaps best known for the muezzin’s calls for prayer at mosques. Even the Talking Drums follow partly this meandering pattern. <p>
Echoes of music from “polyrhythmic”, forest Africa can be found in Afro-Caribbean and Afro-Latin American genres, and echoes of “swing”, Griot/Sahel Africa in Blues and Jazz. Interestingly: that whole “shuffle” and “swing”, reached Jamaica too, via radio stations playing Black US music like Blues, R&B, Jazz), partly influencing Reggae, though mixed with local, as scholars call it, "forest Africa" (Congo, Ghana, Igbo) musical aspects and accents, adapting that shuffle input according to Jamaican norms. <p>
This makes Reggae a representative, varied representation of the wider African Diaspora, and thus also fit for varied percussion. <p>
<b>ISLAMIC CONVERSION</b><p>
Quite different, but also relevant, I consider the work of the Dutch scholar (of Arabic and Islamic studies at Leyden University, Netherlands) Hans Jansen, about religion. Jansen wrote a book with the somewhat provocative title Het Nut Van God (The Use, or Function, Of God), in Dutch. I read it in Dutch. It was published in 2001. <p>
Not all in this book by Jansen I found interesting, but parts of it – when he went deeper, beyond news or topical issues – I certainly did, even making me look differently at certain things. Religion served, Jansen argues, for people in certain places or cultures to provide them what they lacked in their environment, their real world. <p>
According to Jansen, the chaos and lawlessness in war-ridden areas where Arabs and the later Islamic converts lived (Arabia, Middle East, parts of Africa), had religion serve the function of bringing “order” and “structure” by the good example and instructions from God (Allah). By contrast Judaism and Christianity of the Old Testament (with enslaved Jews) emphasized more “justice”, and New Testament Christianity, in materialist, money-driven societies, “love” (beyond interest). With the Saul-to-Paul conversion, he also contends, the emphasis in Christianity came more on “believing” than just practice. <p>
Islam went a bit in a different direction. Believing mentally – or being able to “read” a holy book – seemed less important than clear, practical rituals, which were easy to adopt: praying 5 times a day, fasting in a part of the year, food prescriptions.. All once present in Christianity too, but diluted in favour of more abstract “belief”. Due to Islam’s clear, easy-to-adopt rituals, partly fitting local customs (polygamy, for instance), many people converted to Islam more willingly, even convincingly, if not always deeply. Added to this, the idea of “order” and a “high – if abstract - moral norm” of Islam was welcomed in violent, chaotic environments. <p>
All this might explain why the Hausa so readily embraced Islam, and some among them even quite fanatically. The emphasis on rituals, though, still left some space, hidden or not, for own indigenous interpretations or survivals, clear in the Guinea region, as in other parts of Africa. <p>
In Hausa-land, also with the recent Boko Haram fanaticism, this maintained, freer “own” Africanness, seemed less clear than e.g. among the more “flexible” Guinea or Ethiopian Muslims (or Somalian Muslims, before a conservative jihad there), but is still there. <p>
<b>CONCLUSION</b><p>
I mentioned the African (not Arab) Talking Drum in common use among Hausa, and some other African musical aspects. Sure, the Middle Eastern “mono-rhythmic” focus is there, but Africanized rhythmically with a “swing” focus, and still some call-and-response, as elsewhere in sub-Saharan Africa. <p>
It is precisely this cultural resilience of Africanness which still makes the Hausa music interesting for a percussionist like me. <p>
Percussionists are by definition “multicultural”.. they have to be. Me too, playing African drums and percussion instruments (from different regions), Cuban drums, Brazilian shakers, Spanish castanets, the Middle Eastern Darbuka, North African Bendir frame drums, bells, Western tambourines, modern “pop” jamblocks, etc. <p>
I thought a period that an interest in Africa – as most percussive continent –, or the African Diaspora, was inevitable – even required - for a percussion player, but I later heard about percussionists strictly playing Middle Eastern or Indian instruments. That is them: I prefer to focus on the African Diaspora and Africa, and Hausa music is an affected, yet enigmatic and interesting part of it.. <p>
Historically, the Hausa were (relatively) less affected by the European slave trade, especially when compared to the Yoruba and Igbo in South Nigeria (or the Coromantee in Ghana, Ewe in Benin, and Congo peoples). The beauty of resilience of Yoruba cultural retentions in the Americas shows in Yoruba-derived instruments in Afro-Cuban and Afro-Brazilian music, from there internationalizing: the Shékere (common in both Brazil and Cuba), and its modernized version invented in Brazil, the Cabasa shaker. The Ganza shaker, the Agogo double bell, the double-sided Bata drums survived in the Afro-Cuban (largely Yoruba-based) Santería faith, etcetera etcetera. <p>
Congo music influenced Afro-Cuban and Afro-Brazilian music (with clear echoes in Samba, Salsa and Son), and even influenced Reggae music from Jamaica, alongside Ghanaian influences. Congo drums even influenced the Afro-Cuban “inventions” of the by now well-known drum types the Conga and Bongó. Igbo ended up in Jamaica, Barbados, and parts of the US too. <p>
Escaping (more) enslavement by Europeans can partly be explained by the inland, non-coastal location of Hausa-land, but also the Arab enslavement – likewise affecting millions of Africans – affected Hausa a bit less, probably due to their early conversion to Islam. In Islam, Muslims were formally not allowed to enslave other Muslims. <p>
The book about ‘The Use (or Function) Of God’ by Hans Jansen I mentioned, thus also sheds light on this: how “modern times” and expansion and conquest through military means of both European Christianity and Arab Islamic expansion – and the inherent hypocrisy of exploitation, under the guise of “holy faiths” – apparently needed an organized religion to make sense of this, to structure this. <p>
Within and despite this, “free” indigenous, original (“African”) culture and music still survived, also among the Hausa. Again: the beauty of cultural resilience, against all odds. <p>
Also, the nice creativity of combining sources into “new art”, in this case Arab/Middle Eastern and African influences. The prominent drums, call-and-response of Africa, but the monorhythmic meandering of Arab music, yet “swung” in an African way. <p>
Not uninteresting, but I always felt more attracted to polyrhythm of other parts of Africa: South Nigeria, but also the Congo region. Rhythms responding to each other, and intertwining. Evident in Yoruba, Igbo, and Congo music, more subtly in Afro-American genres like Reggae, Calypso, Samba, Merengue, or Salsa. <p>
This does not mean that I love only that, as I see interesting aspects in most of authentic folk music, even if not very rhythmical, only less. <p>
The continuous and fluid, meandering/swinging, talking drum-led drumming among the Hausa I find somewhat appealing, also as a change from my usual approach (clave, dialoguing and intertwining separate drum patterns), as well as the “intense” singing over it, fitting it due to its “melisma” (“trembling”) influences. <p>
Perhaps this appeal increases into "inspiration" one day, who knows..
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-14630513225724856772023-08-02T20:52:00.011-07:002023-08-10T18:38:30.340-07:00Stereotypen
Zijn stereotypen per definitie beledigend? Of kunnen ze “goedaardig” zijn, “onschuldig”, dan wel een “kern van waarheid” bevatten, zoals men over cliché’s zegt? <p>
Het bezwaarlijke van stereotypen is uiteraard de generalisatie. Dat blijft mijns inziens bezwaarlijk, omdat het in zekere zin het indidividu als mens ontkent, en derhalve “dehumaniseert” tot groepslid. Grote woorden, maar in gradaties kun je dat wel zo stellen. Als vooroordelen kunnen ze ook tot discriminatie in de praktijk leiden. <p>
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“Alle Nederlanders zijn zuinig”, bijvoorbeeld, bevalt mogelijk niet elke gulle, niet-materialistische Nederland als stereotype, maar is relatief onschuldig. Het is een van die stereotypen die, denk ik, Nederlanders zelf ooit de wereld in hebben gegooid. Het heeft immers iets nuchters en bedachtzaams, evenals het andere stereotype dat Nederlanders “nuchter” zouden zijn. <p>
Minder onschuldig zijn generaliserende stereotypen als “Marokkanen zijn agressief”, of “Surinamers zijn lui”. De inzet is namelijk al negatief. Een opgefokte Marokkaan die dat bevestigt kun je zo sneller dehumaniseren, en een uitkeringstrekker die het wel prima vindt zo en liever niet werkt, en toevallig Surinaams is, krijgt wat meer kritiek dan een autochtone Nederlander die nog luier leeft: omdat hij niet “van buiten” komt, natuurlijk. <p>
<b>TOESLAGEN-AFFAIRE</b><p>
Dat laatste bleek des te minder onschuldig, omdat tijdens de Toeslagen-affaire in Nederland bleek, dat de Nederlandse overheid (eventuele) uitkerings-/bijstands-fraude specifiek meer bij bepaalde etnische (minderheids)groepen ging controleren. Dit is net zo racistisch als het klinkt, maar ging zelfs uit van de premier Mark Rutte, als eindverantwoordelijke. Het betrof onder meer Somaliërs, die extra controle kregen op fraude. Later volgde daar een juridische reprimande op – zij het halfhartig -, en werd Mark Rutte zelfs formeel veroordeeld voor racisme. Rutte’s populariteit bleek echter onverminderd: vele verarmingen van volksdelen, leugens, lockdowns en avondklokken later. Vraag me niet waarom.. <p>
Je trof zelfs de nodige gecorrumpeerde – of op zijn minst: verwarde - dwazen aan – vooral ter “nep” linkerzijde - die quasi- of selectief verontwaardigd deden over de toeslagenaffaire (al dan niet terecht), maar Rutte en het kabinet in alle andere (inmiddels aantoonbare) onzin bleven steunen, inclusief de loze, op totaliarisme gerichte corona-hype/pLandemie, de verhulde Navo/militair-industriële belangen bij oorlog in Oekraïne, en de door Shell bedachte klimaat-milieu wisseltruc. Maar dat terzijde.. <p>
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Het stereotype van de feestende Somaliër (of Antilliaan, of andere etnische minderheden) van “ons” belastinggeld, opgebracht door hard werkende nette Nederlanders, speelde bij deze toeslagenaffaire in ieder geval een rol. <p>
<b>“POSITIEF”</b> <p>
Stereotypering is generalisatie en derhalve versimpeling, en misschien ook al te menselijk, kun je redeneren. Zoals mensen (wereldwijd) wel meer – ook racistische en seksistische - onzin denken en praten, gebaseerd op frustratie en te weinig kennis. Zijn ze echter, nogmaals, altijd beledigend of verkeerd? Je hebt weliswaar ook positieve stereotypen, of die dat lijken, over volkeren, waar een zeker wantrouwen op zijn plaats is: “Joden zijn slim”, om maar wat te noemen, of “Latinos’s feesten graag”, “zwarte mensen kunnen goed dansen”, “Indiërs zijn goed met computers”, etcetera.. <p>
Sommigen zullen denken: deze hebben een kern van (zij het versimpelde) waarheid, maar ze zijn alleen quasi-onschuldig.. Ik denk namelijk niet dat de mensen uit die etnische groepen zelf deze stereotypen bedacht hebben, wat ik bij (vaak Europese) mensen wel denk: Nederlanders zien zichzelf graag als zuinig en nuchter, Engelsen als koel en flegmatisch, Italianen zichzelf als gepassioneerd.. Ze vinden het ook ego-strelend om dat van anderen te horen. Zelf-beelden zijn per definitie “coole beelden”, zeg maar. <p>
Stereotypering heeft derhalve, betoog ik, nare en dubieuze, zelfs discriminatoire kanten. “Reducerend” , en het woord “ontmenselijkend”, schuw ik zelfs niet. Het reflecteert onvermijdelijk de ongelijke machtsverhoudingen in deze wereld. Aan de andere kant heeft het – althans: de aandacht voor stereotypen -, betoog ik tegelijkertijd, menselijke en leerzame kanten. Soms ook grappige kanten. <p>
<b>BINNEN EUROPA</b><p>
Stereotypes binnen Europa kunnen ook als onterecht ervaren worden, maar zijn soms grappig. Grappig, puur door de menselijke behoefte aan bevestiging bij twijfel en onzekerheid, aan simpele, overzichtelijke categorieën. Een zwakke behoefte, toegegeven, maar de mens is nu eenmaal zwak. Dit bleek immers ook bij allerlei politieke manipulaties van “het volk” door de geschiedenis heen. Dat “zwakke” hoeft echter niet altijd (bedoeld) “slecht” te zijn: en eigenlijk net zo flexibel als de menselijke geest. <p>
<b>CASE STUDY</b><p>
Ik zal al deze aspecten nu nader bestuderen aan de hand van een case study van persoonlijke aard. Als halve Spanjaard (Spaanse moeder) en Spanje als land goed kennende (en de taal sprekend), en opgegroeid in Nederland, met ook nog een Italiaanse vader, kwam ik onvermijdelijk stereotypes over Spanje tegen, en reacties van Spanjaarden erop, die ook weer hun stereotypes hadden.<p>
<b>DAT ZIJN NOU TYPISCH SPANJAARDEN</b><p>
Ik heb daar pas wat over gelezen, zoals het grappig bedoelde, informatieve boek: ‘Dat zijn nou typisch Spanjaarden: gids voor xenofoben’, uit 1994, vertaald uit het Engels, maar ik las het in het Nederlands. Drew Launay, een Engelsman met Franse ouders, schreef het. Het is met zo'n 63 pagina's niet al te omvangrijk.<p>
De titel verraadt al de zelfspot en –relativering, wat ik wel waardeer. Hier geen mensen aan het woord die pretenderen de wijsheid over Spanjaarden in pacht te hebben: ze willen gewoon grappig, luchtig generaliserend over de Spaanse cultuur schrijven, in een niet al te serieus “informatief” boekje. Humoristisch bedoeld ook. <p>
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<p>
In dezelfde serie verscheen ‘Dat zijn nou typisch Grieken’ of ‘Dat zijn nou typisch Fransen’. In het vervolg kort ik het boek over Spanje in ieder geval af tot DZNTS. <p>
Wat betreft Spanje, voel ik minder afstand en kan me dus ook in theorie “beledigd” voelen door zo’n flauw boekje. Ik kan ook dingen “herkennen” of (rationeel) als juist of onjuist zien. <p>
<b>ASTERIX</b><p>
Erg oppervlakkig ben ik niet, en ben o.m. historisch onderlegd, dus zal de stereotypes ook breder kunnen duiden. Dit deed ik zelfs met een ander, evenmin erg serieus, maar wel “informatief” boek met stereotypes over Spanje voor het grote publiek: ‘Asterix in Hispania’, ouder, uit 1967. Ook hier: gelukkig speels, humoristisch, en relativerend, en als kind was ik eigenlijk een fan van Asterix de Galliër. Leuke verhalen, zonder dat ik me onderworpen voelden aan racistische propaganda. Bij Kuifje en Suske & Wiske had ik dat idee wel, zelfs als kind, voelde ik bezwaren (Afrikanen met dikke lippen en kookpotten). Het Belgische geweten en de verhulde schaamte rond de koloniale misdaden in Congo, werden hier vals duidelijk. <p>
De geschiedenis toegankelijk gemaakt, zo zag ik Asterix stripverhalen eigenlijk. Belgen, Goten (Scandinaviërs) en Britten (of hun voorouders in de Romeinse tijd) dronken toen al veel bier. Bier drinken heeft ook een lange geschiedenis in Noord-Europa (want het bestanddeel hop groeit daar, niet in Zuid-Europa), dus historisch feitelijk. <p>
Galliërs, belangrijke, Keltische voorouders van de huidige Fransen, hielden toen al van lang tafelen, met een wijntje erbij, Romeinen praatten met hun handen (samengebalde vingers) als huidige Italianen, etcetera. Stereotypes, maar ook grappig.<p>
<b>BELEDIGEND OF GRAPPIG?</b> <p>
Vond ik dat ook gelden voor Asterix in Hispania? Kon ik er om lachen, als halve Spanjaard? <p>
En om dat andere boekje DZNTS ook? <p>
Het antwoord is ja. Om weinig was ik persoonlijk beledigd in relatie tot mijn waarden. De beschreven “stereotypen” in beide boeken waren toevallig in mijn beleving ook niet negatief, dat scheelt. Als er een negatieve trek als “gewelddadig” of “ongemanierd” gegeneraliseerd zou worden, zou ik wel wat bezwaren hebben. Ik vind Spanjaarden in het openbaar iets beleefder dan dat deel van Nederland dat ik goed ken (Randstad), dus zou ik ook een onterechte karakterisering vinden. <p>
Zelfs het hardnekkige stereotype van het grotere “racisme” van Spanjaarden – meerdere mensen spraken erover dat Spanje lang “de rednecks” van Europa waren, omdat een term als “negro” (letterlijk: “zwarte”) voor een voetballer openlijk en direct geuit wordt – klopt denk ik niet. <p>
De multiculturele, stedelijke samenleving die we kennen van Amsterdam, Londen, of Parijs, kwam evenwel wat later (en beperkter) naar Madrid en Barcelona. Dat verklaart het verschil. Landen als Nederland en Engeland hadden derhalve meer tijd om een “subtiel” indirect racisme te ontwikkelen ten opzichte van mensen die er nu eenmaal zijn (maar wel hun plaats moeten weten). Grotere groepen van “je eigen mensen” maken ook dat je in een “bubbel” met je eigen mensen kunt blijven, dus ook minder last hebt van negativiteit van de autochtonen: je hoeft minder contact met ze te hebben. Zo simpel is het. Spanje had dat eerst minder, dus iets meer (openlijk) ongemak. <p>
Het boekje DZNTS (uit de jaren 90), stelt dat het moderne Spanje (na de dictatuur van Franco) inmiddels op zich niet xenofober is dan andere Europese landen, ook omdat het open naar de wereld ging, mede door toerisme, en migratie wat normaler is geworden. <p>
<b>STEREOTYPEN OVER SPANJE</b><p>
Welke stereotypen onderscheiden Spanjaarden dan wel van andere Europeanen, volgens datzelfde boekje (en Asterix In Hispania, dat in 1967 verscheen)? <p>
Dan werd het grappig: ik moest soms ook echt lachen om de droge toon. “Alles moet leuk zijn” voor een Spanjaard, en werk is een "noodzakelijk kwaad", is de rode draad in het boekje DZNTS. Nogal wat anders dan het ernstige, protestantse arbeidsethos dat andere delen van Europa (waaronder Nederland) beïnvloedde. <p>
Het woord “negocio” voor “zaken” (business) in het Spaans komt, veelzeggend genoeg, van “neg” (niet/afwezig) en “ocio” (vrije tijd): “niet vrije tijd” (negocio) dus tegenover het Engelse “drukheid” (business). Cultuurverschil. <p>
Spanjaarden praten veel en lang, stelt het boekje voorts bewust overdrijvend. Daarnaast, ook overdreven stellig: Spanjaarden “plannen” niet graag, en als er een afspraak is, wordt die makkelijk vergeten of vervangen door iets dat “leuker” is op dat moment (een gesprek, bijv.). Zo’n overdreven stereotype met een (kleine) kern van waarheid, denk ik. <p>
Albert Helman (Lou Lichtveld), een Surinaamse Nederlander die verslag deed van de Spaanse Burgeroorlog in 1936, beschreef die neiging als “nonchalance met betrekking tot organisatie” en als inderdaad terugkerend, ook in een situatie waar dat ongunstig uit kan pakken, en organisatie vereist is, zoals in de strijd tegen de veel beter getrainde en geëquipeerde troepen van de couppleger Generaal Franco: een modern, professioneel leger, zogezegd, bijna on-Spaans. Dat anarchistische vertaalde zich in Spanje in bepaalde episoden ook in politieke bewegingen, ook tijdens die Burgeroorlog aan “Linkse”, Republikeinse kant. Dit kwam helaas de effectiviteit niet ten goede, en de gedisciplineerde, getrainde militair Franco maakte daar uiteraard misbruik van, om de oorlog door zijn coup te winnen (wat hem lukte in 1939). <p>
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Dat vrijheidslievende/anarchistische, ongeplande, heeft historische voorlopers in de Spaanse geschiedenis, met geconcentreerde Romeinse troepen in steden, maar anarchie erbuiten, en de lang durende (met tussenpozen) strijd tegen de Moorse, Islamitische overheersing, met langzame “herovering” van Christenen vanuit het noorden, maar met veel “niemandslanden” en bovendien veel interne verdeeldheid binnen het Moorse deel, dat vaak ook een “strakke regie” miste. De eerste eeuwen van Moorse overheersing werd de Islam ook weinig dwingend opgelegd. <p>
<b>VOLKSAARD</b><p>
Dit alles droeg bij aan wat je een Spaanse “volksaard” kan noemen. Een bekend begrip, maar bestaat dat wel: een “volksaard”. Is het niet een verzameling stereotypen, dus te generaliserend? <p>
Ik denk wel dat culturele patronen zich geografisch kunnen concentreren of beperken vanwege een bepaalde geschiedenis, in combinatie met natuurlijke omstandigheden. Spanje is een van de bergachtigste (na Zwitserland en Oostenrijk), en droogste landen van Europa, deels onherbergzaam, met een centrale hoogvlakte rond bergketens. <p>
Lijkt toch iets moeilijker te organiseren en tot welvaart te brengen dan de groene polders met sloten, zoals in Holland, of zelfs de vruchtbare Po-vlakte in het welvarende deel van Italië. <p>
“Plannen” gaat in zo’n ruig landschap wat moeilijker, en gecombineerd met chaotische episoden met autoritaire regimes, afgewisseld met weinig strakke, centrale regie en planning, in de Spaanse geschiedenis, ontstaat dan vanzelf een wat anarchistische, niet-plannende, ongeorganiseerde levenshouding. <p>
<b>ZEDEN</b><p>
Ook het Franco regime (1939-1975), hoewel een dictatuur, was niet zo totalitair zoals hardliners rond Franco eerst wilden. Het botste op de Spaanse en Latino cultuur. Hoewel moordpartijen in de vroege dictatuur, wat extra wetten, en simpelweg veel politie en militairen op straat, het Spaanse volk wel degelijk intimideerde. Er was een katholieke invloed in de Rechtse dictatuur (verder gemengd met fascistische elementen), dus die nieuwe wetten waren deels zedelijke wetten, die een beetje zoals in Iran vooral “vrije” vrouwen en seksualiteit/genotzucht moesten inperken (vrouwen mochten niet fietsen, geen strakke kleding dragen, lang geen broeken voor vrouwen), naast bijvoorbeeld niet zoenen in de openbare ruimte, of al te vrije feesten/samenkomsten op straat. <p>
De belangrijke avenues en pleinen in steden als Madrid en Barcelona die alle toeristen wel kennen (Plaza de España, Plaza Mayor, Puerta del Sol, Callao, las Ramblas, Plaza de Cataluña), waren tijdens de dictatuur gevuld met politie en militairen (of guardias civiles).. ter controle. Dit nam aan het einde van de dictatuur (vanaf ongeveer 1968) wat af. <p>
Anekdotisch bewijs, ook binnen mijn eigen familie, toonde echter aan dat de wetten niet overal even strikt werden aangehouden, tenzij er een politie-agent in de buurt stond, en zelfs dan (als bevriend) was er flexibiliteit (oogje toe, deze x geen boete of arrestatie), kon je geluk hebben: op zijn Latijns dus, en Spaans “informeel” dus. Zoenen op straat bleef wel verboden, zoals mijn Spaanse peettante (vriendin van mijn moeder, al in Spanje) in Madrid onder Franco ondervond, toen ze zoende op straat met haar nieuwe, Nederlandse vriend, en een politie-agent haar vermaande. Mijn moeder stond hierbij.<p>
Hoe dan ook, na Franco’s dood in 1975, kregen alle typisch Spaanse neigingen tot vrij, ongeorganiseerd leven weer alle ruimte, zo geeft het boekje DZNTS ook aan. Ook de seksuele moraal in het dagelijkse leven in het moderne Spanje, wordt er gekarakteriseerd als “los”, en seksuele lust als normaal en geaccepteerd, voor mannen en vrouwen. De auteur(s?) relateren dat interessant genoeg aan het relatief wat minder voorkomen van zware zedenmisdrijven, dan in samenlevingen met meer religieuze repressie. Juist tegenovergesteld dan preutse autoriteiten beweren, dus. <p>
In een ander boek dat ik las, over een ander deel van de wereld (niet-Islamitisch, Sub-Saharaans Afrika) werd vreemd genoeg hetzelfde gezegd: minder zedenmisdrijven dan elders door lossere seksuele moraal, dus minder frustratie. De in de media nogal uitvergrote verkrachtingen tijdens oorlogsgeweld in Congo – die overigens ook plaatsvonden tijdens de Tweede Wereldoorlog, en de recente Joegoslavië-oorlog – spraken dit echter tegen, en bevorderden helaas weer een ander hardnekkig (eigenlijk ook onjuist) stereotype over Afrikaanse mensen. <p>
Om een cultuur echt te kennen, moet je erin zitten, blijkt hier maar eens uit. Anders krijg je, inderdaad, stereotypen, generalisaties, en vooroordelen. <p>
Het boekje ‘ Dit zijn nou typisch Spanjaarden’/DZNTS noemt voorts een relativering van geld en carrière als middelen en niet doelen op zich: het moet vooral “leuke” doelen hebben (feesten, familie, opscheppen) en dient geen arbeidsethos op zichzelf. De natuurlijke omgeving – de familie - wordt meer als geluksbron gezien in Spanje dan rijkdom door werk, wat zelfs nog iets “verlichts” lijkt te hebben ook. Dit lijkt dan een “positief” stereotype. <p>
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<b>NEOLIBERALISME</b><p>
Wel verfrissend in dit neoliberale tijdsgewricht, en tegelijkertijd aantonend hoe “angelsaksisch/protestants” dat neoliberalisme (moderne VS kapitalisme) in feite is. Dit verklaart ook de financiële (begrotingsdiscipline) conflicten in de EU tussen Noord- en Zuid-Europa.
Spanjaarden hebben zich een beetje aan dat neoliberalisme aangepast, is mijn indruk, maar niet heel sterk. Het informele en ongeorganiseerde, en de voorkeur voor plezier en “natuurlijke relaties” boven werk, is wat beperkt, soms even gaan slapen, maar zeker niet dood. <p>
Veel armere mensen “moeten” in Spanje zo’n 40 uur werken, zoals overal, om rond te komen, maar een cultureel aspect wat in Spanje wat sterker is dan in, zeg, Duitsland of Nederland, is dat het ook als “moeten werken” wordt ervaren. Als het even kan dus “vermeden”, evenals (strakke) “planning”, want “niet leuk”. De siësta – lange middag-pauze – waar Spanjaarden koppig aan vast blijven houden, maar ook past bij het warme klimaat, dient naar mijn idee ook als tegenwicht tegen “moeten werken”. <p>
Ook de vele patroonsfeesten op de Spaanse kalender, en vele dorpsfeesten, geven die voorkeur voor “feesten” aan, inclusief dansen en zingen. <p>
De latere en gebrekkige industrialisatie, en de gebleven connectie met “het (platte)land”, deelt Spanje met Ierland, inclusief de neiging tot feesten en plezier (naast werk). In de westelijke helft van Europa, zijn dat om die redenen ook de landen met de relatief rijkste “volksmuziek” (Ierland en Spanje). Helaas deelt het ook de conservatieve katholieke traditie, inclusief reactionaire perioden. <p>
Volgens het boekje ‘Dat zijn nou typisch Spanjaarden’ is ook de rol van de katholieke kerk in het dagelijkse leven van moderne Spanjaarden inmiddels sterk verminderd. Nu niet veel anders schat ik in, dan pakweg het huidige Frankrijk of Zuid-Nederland. Tenzij het een aanleiding voor patroons- of andere feesten zijn, want dat vinden Spanjaarden – daar is het weer – “leuk”. <p>
Over de Franco-tijd zegt dit boekje het volgende: “<i>toen Franco nog leefde deed hij erg zijn best om de Spaanse bevolking onder controle te houden, maar hij slaagde er niet in het Spaanse vermogen tot plezier maken aan banden te leggen. Hij kon de Spanjaarden alleen maar een aantal jaren iets minder gelukkig maken</i>”. <p>
Leuk verwoord, en tegelijkertijd verwijzend naar de verborgen werkelijkheid achter het “achterlijke”, conservatieve imago Spanje had, elders in Europa in de jaren 60 en 70 (1960-1975), en wel daarna. <p>
Mensen als mijn moeder en andere Spaanse migranten naar bijv. Nederland in de jaren 60, “vluchtten” veelal, minstens economisch, maar vaak ook politiek. Spanje bleef economisch achter, kreeg geen Marshall-hulp na de Tweede Wereldoorlog, en Franco werd door sommige landen geboycot, hoewel deels alleen in naam. Er vonden wat pogingen van “nationale zelfvoorziening” plaats, die veelal mislukten door zelfoverschatting, en eigenlijk ook de lage industrialiseringsgraad en technologische achterstand. <p>
Wat mijn moeder het meest waardeerde toen ze in Nederland kwam rond 1966, zo vertelde ze mij, was niet de welvaart, de betere economie met beter betalende banen (ook voor haar), nee.. dat benaderde ze meer met de houding van “a woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do” (ze stuurde, zoals andere migranten uit arme families, ook geld van haar loon naar Spanje, naar haar moeder). Ze sprak vooral de waardering uit voor het respect dat ze ontving als werknemer (bloemen op de eerste dag als “chamber maid” in een hotel in Zandvoort, bezit van de rijke Amsterdamse Caransa familie). <p>
In het harde fascistische Spanje van toen, werd ze als werkzoekende, voor slechtere banen, als zeurende zwerver behandeld, dan wel als sloof, dus meer botte, cynische afhankelijkheid zonder respect. <p>
Behalve dat, waardeerde ze ook de formele beleefdheid en behulpzaamheid op meer plekken in Nederland, en de vrijere samenleving en bijeenkomsten, ook voor jongeren. <p>
Dit lijkt los te staan van het begrip “volksaard”. Hier heeft de politieke situatie invloed, autoritair regime of democratie. <p>
Iedereen, ieder mens, wil vrijheid en plezier maken. Hoe die vrijheid en dat plezier ingevuld worden kun je “cultuur” noemen. Een mooi, vaak complex iets, maar vaak versimpeld in “stereotypen”. Soms is dat denigrerend (of afgunstig?), soms humoristisch bedoeld, zoals in het boekje DZNTS dat ik hier bespreek. <p>
Dit boekje bevat verder grappige one-liners over die “volksaard” als: <p>
“<i>Van systemen verwacht men in Spanje meestal niet dat ze functioneren</i>”, of: <p>
“<i>De Spanjaarden drinken niet om hun remmingen los te laten, want die hebben ze niet</i>”, <p>
“<i>Stilte werkt Spanjaarden op de zenuwen. Dat is ook de reden dat het Spaans niet gewoon gesproken, maar naar elkaar geschreeuwd wordt</i>”, en deze: <p>
“<i>Spanjaarden laten zich weinig gelegen aan regels – want regels zijn niet leuk</i>”. <p>
Dit laatste citaat herhaalt nogmaals het “niet willen plannen” of “niet aan tijd willen denken” en het vermaak-zoekende als stereotypen. Een soort rode draad door dit boekje, DZNTS. <p>
Nogmaals, niet echt negatieve stereotyperingen, en als overdreven of onjuist, dan toch te grappig verwoord om echt beledigend te zijn. Ze worden zo gerelativeerd. <p>
<b>ASTERIX</b><p>
Ook in de Nederlandse Wikipedia-pagina over het begrip ‘stereotypes’ worden de stripverhalen Asterix de Galliër genoemd als milde, amusante hanteringen van stereotypen. Ook visueel, heel goed en treffend getekend, door de soms geniale illustrator Uderzo. <p>
De tekeningen zijn zo leuk, de verhalen en humor erin zo speels, dat je vergeet dat veel van het verbeelde stereotypen zijn. Wederom: meer grappig dan beledigend. <p>
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In Asterix in Hispania (1967), komen alle cliché’s langs: het hete klimaat, Don Quichot, de vele feesten, stierenvechten, Flamenco en zigeuners, olijfolie, alsmede slechte organisatie en traagheid. Daarnaast ook aspecten als “trots” en “eer”, en het bekende vurige temperament. In de chaotische organisatie en in het vele feesten en dansen in het Asterix in Hispania verhaal worden de stereotypen uit het boekje DZNTS nogmaals bevestigd: vermaak-gericht, en niet willen plannen, traag- of luiheid. <p>
Met mijn kennis van geschiedenis kan ik natuurlijk wat bezwaren aantekenen en correcties plaatsen: de Hispaniaanse mensen in het Asterix boek over de Romeinse tijd, zeggen voortdurend, cliché-matig “Olé”, terwijl die term uit het Arabisch komt (Moorse overheersing), zo’n 6 eeuwen later dus. Net als het Castiliaanse woord Ojalá (betekent: “laten we het hopen”, “hopelijk”) verwijst het naar God (Arabisch: Allah), bij God’s wil, prijs God, dat idee. Een van de vele Arabische leenwoorden in het Spaans (Castiliaans) om historische redenen. “Olé” als term gebruiken huidige Spanjaarden als uitroep wel veel: een beetje in de betekenis zoals zwarte Amerikanen “right on!” gebruiken – positieve bevestiging, dus, dus dat stereotype heeft wel iets van waarheid. <p>
Om diezelfde historische redenen is de opmerking van iemand in het Asterix boek dat “we” (Spanjaarden) “van Grieken afstammen”, simplistische onzin. In de loop der eeuwen is het DNA van Spaanse mensen nogal vermengd, en bovendien verschillend per regio. Romeinen en Moren (Berbers, Arabieren) droegen eraan bij, maar ook eerder Kelten, Feniciërs (een proto-semitische taal sprekend), Carthagers (dat verhaal van Hannibal speelde deels in Spanje), Basken en hun voorouders, Iberiërs, Westgoten, Vandalen, Joden, en weinig Grieken. Daarnaast ook mensen die er al woonden toen de Feniciërs zo’n 1200 vóór Christus de eerste stad in Spanje stichtten (het huidige Cádiz, in Andalusië), van onduidelijke etnische origine. <p>
<b>DNA</b> <p>
Hoe dan ook, serieuze, wetenschappelijke DNA-studies sinds de jaren 1950s (toen DNA-studies eerst opkwamen), laten niet overtuigend één belangrijkste etnische voorouders van de huidige Spanjaarden zien, alleen een beetje bij de Basken. Andere landen in de wereld hebben dat wat meer (een dominante groep - nooit enige - voorouders), maar Spanje is veel gemengder. Zelfs de inquisitie bleek niet al te succesvol (te "Spaans" gepland?) en aardig wat in naam bekeerde Joden bleven uiteindelijk toch in Spanje (toch ruim 40% van hen). "Keltisch" DNA in Spanje wordt geschat op zo'n 30% (Portugal iets meer), geconcentreerd in het Noordwesten, maar "Germaans" DNA maar op zo'n 5%, "Berbers" DNA al met al op minstens 10%, maar dit alles is soms moeilijk te meten, onderzoekstechnisch gezien: Westgoten spraken een Germaanse taal, maar waren gemengd met Slaven, en Semitisch DNA kan ook van eerdere Feniciërs komen en niet alleen van Joden of Arabieren, Romeinen stuurden soms soldaten van Gallische of Griekse afkomst. Etcetera, etcetera. <p>Verder vind ik DNA-studies vanuit historisch perspectief wel een interessant studieterrein, overigens pas historisch ontwikkeld na de dwaze rassentheoriën van de Nazi's. Het had die Nazi-onzin mogelijk wat gerelativeerd, hoewel voorspelbaar de landen met Germaanse talen inderdaad wat meer Germaans DNA hebben.<p>
Misschien neem ik het allemaal te serieus, kun je betogen, want het is grappig bedoeld. Asterix – gericht op kinderen – heeft echter ook wel een educatieve functie. <p>
Wat ik inderdaad niet te serieus moet nemen, in dit geval, zijn de stereotypen in Asterix in Hispania, en evenmin die in het eerdergenoemde boek DZNTS. De auteurs relativeren zichzelf al, en daarmee hun stereotypen. Dat maakt het minder denigrerend of kwetsend. <p>
<b>STAND-UP COMEDY</b> <p>
Hetzelfde zie je bij veel stand-up comedy, zowel in Nederland als daarbuiten. Vooroordelen en stereotypen bespreken – en er grappen over maken – is in dat genre erg gangbaar, soms zelfs de norm. Richard Pryor en Eddy Murphy deden dat al goed en grappig, niet zonder zelfspot. Je hebt verschillende soorten humor, uiteraard, en ik schreef daar een eerder blog artikel over. Humor kan ook verschillende functies hebben, deels ook nare en ideologische: stereotypen bevestigen, volkeren denigreren en uitsluiten. De “blackface” traditie in de VS en deels in Europa bijvoorbeeld, humor tegen Joden (cartoons in Islamitische landen), en andere racistische grappen, zonder enige zelfspot en relativering. Dit is meestal “sarcastisch” van aard, waardoor ik niet zo positief ben over “sarcastische” humor, zoals anderen. <p>
Nederlanders vinden zichzelf sarcastisch, en Amsterdammers helemaal. Tenzij ze het woord verkeerd gebruiken en “ironisch” bedoelen (een gangbare fout), zou ik iets anders zoeken. Humor kan situaties en wereldlijke onzin leuk relativeren en in een ander perspectief plaatsen, zonder dat je mensen persoonlijk, laag-bij-de gronds, per se hoeft te vernederen. Iets van zelfspot en zelfrelativering (als karaktertrek niet zo sterk ontwikkeld bij Amsterdammers) zou al helpen. Als er iets is wat ik bij Spanjaarden iets sympathieker vind dan bij Nederlanders (ik ben het allebei, in feite) is dat Spanjaarden meer zelfspot hebben. <p>
Veel stand-up comedy, ook in de VS en Groot-Brittannië, en zelfs in het sarcasme-rijke Nederland, is goed en grappig omdat het die zelfrelativering, die zelfspot wel heeft. De eigen mening wordt niet zo bloedserieus genomen, en bescheiden genoeg wordt niet verhuld dat het vanuit een eigen, beperkt perspectief is. Niet al te serieus te nemen, en daardoor prettig. Geen “bully-achtige” metaforische “hand tegen de keel” waardoor je niet kunt ademen en in een hoek gedwongen wordt, zoals een keiharde racistische grap die je op straat in Amsterdam soms keihard kan overvallen. <p>
Zelfs de meest met stereotiepen spelende delen van deze comedy van mensen als Eddy Murphy, Richard Pryor, en latere goede, succesvolle comedians als Lenny Henry, Dave Chappelle, Katt Williams, Russell Peters, Sarah Silverman, waren niet zo denigrerend als ze leken (over blanken die niet kunnen dansen bijvoorbeeld). Het zijn meer begrijpelijke observaties over cultuurverschillen. Geen wetten van Meden en Perzen. <p>
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Ze hoeven niet in alle gevallen waar te zijn, zoals de Nederlandse zuinigheid, en in Spanje noemen ze Catalanen “zuinig”, mijn moeder noemde Italianen “jaloers”, etcetera, maar de manier waarop het gebracht wordt – met “zachte” humor - , maakt dat relatieve, betwistbare eigenlijk al duidelijk. <p>
<b>HOLLYWOOD</b><p>
Stereotiepen en het verwante cliché’s vind ik wel negatiever uitpakken in Hollywood-films. Deze zijn nog veel invloedrijker dan stand-up comedy, met name de laatste decennia. Ze zijn wereldwijd populair, gericht op vermaak en spektakel, maar drijven toch vaak op cliché’s en een (soms verhulde) pro-VS bias. Zelf-beelden zijn altijd “coole” beelden, zei ik eerder, dus ook hoe de VS gepresenteerd wordt in Hollywood films uit de VS. Orde, rationaliteit, en democratie in de VS, gekken en chaos daarbuiten, al te beginnen in Mexico. <p>
Dat is soms subtiel, omdat politiek-correcte stromingen direct racisme in een kwaad daglicht stelden, sinds de 1970s met name, maar het is er nog steeds. Heel toevallig – of eigenlijk niet – sloten en sluiten ze ook heel goed aan bij het buitenlands militair/politiek beleid van de VS, met invallen in Iraq en Libië en zo, veelal gericht op eigenbelang. Britse films en series hadden lang datzelfde pro-imperialistische euvel. <p>
Ook de African Americans lijken dan wel een plaats te hebben in vele Hollywood-films, net zoals sommige “token” Latino’s, maar in veel films worden toch negatieve stereotiepen over zwarten en Latino’s eigenlijk bevestigd. Ook in populaire, invloedrijke films die vanuit het zwarte perspectief lijken uit te gaan, zoals in Boyz In The Hood.. Er zullen ook wel wat mooie, menselijke, universele aspecten in zulke films zitten, maar ook veel “vieringen” van een minderwaardigheidscomplex en een laag zelfbeeld. Jezelf reduceren tot een groepslid, een stereotype. <p>
Met name kwetsbare jongeren, met een beperkt referentiekader, worden daardoor beïnvloedt, ook in Europese steden, denk ik. “Gangstertje spelen”, zeg maar, als de enige “zwarte” film die je keek Boys In The Hood was. Hadden ze beter Spike Lee-films kunnen kijken. <p>
Stereotiepen kunnen dus op verschillende manieren gevaarlijk zijn. Zowel bij minderheidsgroepen zelf in het gedrag, maar uiteraard ook in verband met machtsverschillen, als een witte werkgever mensen onterecht discrimineert voor een baan (niet aannemen/uitnodigen) vanwege niet een individu maar alleen een (in potentie irritant) groepslid ziet, of als een overheid in een Europees land raciale, etnische minderheden strenger gaat controleren op bijstands-/uitkeringsfraude dan de eigen mensen, en dat nog geaccepteerd wordt ook (de Toeslagen-affaire). <p>
Onschuldig is alleen de relativering, en daarmee betwijfelen van die stereotiepen, soms juist door ze te benoemen en uit te vergroten. Met goede, positieve humor, zeg maar. <p>
In gradaties zit dat in zowel dat boekje, Dat Zijn Nou Typisch Spanjaarden, waar ik het over had, de Asterix-strips, en in de betere (stand-up) comedy. Het gaat toch om de intentie. Lachen om cultuurverschillen maakt de wereld denk ik ook leuker en interessanter. Mijn ouders deden niets anders, zelfs die van de eigen echtgeno(o)t(e). <p>
Het is daarnaast historisch leerzaam om te onderzoeken hoe die stereotypen zijn ontstaan.. <p>
<b>CONCLUSIE</b><p>
Tja, welke conclusies kan ik hier verder nu uit trekken? Kloppen de grappig weergegeven stereotypen over Spanje in de genoemde werken, naar mijn ervaring, ook met familie? <p>
Laat ik zeggen dat ik deels meen te herkennen wat ze bedoelen te zeggen. Qua gebrek aan planning en aversie tegen kloktijd zijn er ook volkeren “in de tropen”, zoals Latijns-Amerika waarvan dat nog veel meer gezegd wordt, als stereotiep, maar in ieder geval in vergelijking met andere Europese landen geldt dat vaker te laat komen en mindere planning van Spaanse mensen wel. In Cuba bijvoorbeeld, evenals in Jamaica, was een kloktijd-afspraak veelal een “vage indicatie”, ervoer ik op beide eilanden. Het gericht zijn op feesten en liever niet willen werken, ben ik inderdaad bij veel Spaanse mensen min of meer schaamteloos tegen gekomen. <p>
Echter: ook wel (in mindere mate) bij bijvoorbeeld Nederlanders of Italianen, met name levenslustige vrouwen, wat ik leuk vond. “Girls just wanna have fun”. Niet iedereen is een robot. In meerdere mate trof ik die feest-neiging boven werklust zelfs bij Cubanen en Jamaicanen. Spanjaarden zijn er misschien iets schaamtelozer in om dat toe te geven, en dat beantwoordt aan een ander stereotype in het boek ‘Dat Zijn Nou Typisch Spanjaarden’/DZNTS: dat Spanjaarden nogal “informeel” zijn in omgangsvormen.. lees: direct, ongefilterd. <p>
Sociologisch en historisch wijt ik dat aan de gebrekkigere industrialisatie (slechts rond grote steden en Baskenland) en de gebleven verbinding met het platteland, het agrarische. De omgangsvormen zijn daarmee ook wat “boerser”, vergeleken met bijvoorbeeld Duitsland of Nederland. Niets mis met zulke plattelands-principes, zeg ik altijd maar. <p>
Ook het terugkerende stereotype van "sterke familiebanden" die Spanjaarden zouden hebben herken ik wel, maar is niet anders in veel andere culturen, met name ook armere landen buiten Europa, en betreft vooral de "extended family", niet vooral het kerngezin zoals elders in Europa. Wat breder dus, en de vader-zoon of vader-dochter verhouding op zich is soms daarom zelfs sterker in Noord-Europa of Noord-Amerika. Mijn moeder maakte altijd grapjes over de vond ze overdreven verering van "daddy!" in Amerikaanse films, dus dat is ook relativeerbaar.<p>
Die verschillen in “volksaard” tussen Europese volkeren zijn inmiddels overdreven (de wereld is internationaal, men imiteert elkaar, reist meer, wil verandering), maar met nog steeds een grond, een aanwezige kern.<p> Spanje moet zich aanpassen aan het neoliberalisme, terwijl steeds meer Noord-Europeanen fanatieker zijn gaan feesten - de klok vergetend -, alsof ze altijd al zo waren.<p>
Het meest interessante vindt ik hierbij zelf de connectie met de moderne variant van het kapitalisme, het neoliberalisme, die wereldwijd veel invloed heeft, zeker sinds 1980, en een duidelijk VS/Angelsaksisch stempel heeft. Derhalve ook Protestants qua arbeidsethos, en gevormd door andere “angelsaksische” filosofische stromingen als utilitarisme, en materialisme, welke in “Latijnse “ landen toch minder aansloegen. <p>
Het “kapitalisme” komt historisch uit het Protestantisme voort, weet niet iedereen, maar het voert te ver dat nu uit te leggen. Wel verklaart dit alles - samen met ruige natuurlijke condities - de “cultuurverschillen” van Spanje met, zeg Duitsland of de VS, die te versimpelen zijn tot de eerdergenoemde stereotypen. <p>
Die verschillen zijn bovenal menselijk en eigenlijk ook grappig. In ieder geval zeker warmer en liefdevoller dan de koude cijfers van geld en materialisme. <p>
Cultuur is wat je krijgt als je mensen met rust laat, zeg ik altijd. <p>
Mijn hoop is dat deze natuurlijke neiging tot vrijheid van gewone mensen, van een eigen gevormde cultuur zonder inmenging van bovenaf of machtige partijen, van plezier en inspiratie, en van echte muziek en (levens)kunst en levenslust, altijd sterker zullen blijven dan welke economisch/politieke, elitaire - en totalitaire - machtsgreep en onderdrukking ook.. <p>
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-84812787262787279642023-07-01T08:54:00.014-07:002023-07-01T10:38:29.893-07:00KushSome words can have multiple, yet enigmatic meanings. I find this interesting, as it shows the link between “language” and “culture”. Different linguistic metaphors, cultural anthropological studies showed, is what gave birth to different cultures. <p>
This is one of those actually “logical” or “commonsensical” things of human history, that many not even realized. <p>
<b>ANTHROPOLOGY</b><p>
I stumbled on that fact – that language use precedes culture – when I some time ago wrote an online review of the work ‘Anthropology for Dummies’ (2009), in that .. “for Dummies” series, for a Dutch website maintained by cultural anthropology students in Utrecht, the Netherlands. <p>
Don’t ask me how and why, but the review of the book was a nice task, as I found the book very insightful about human cultural history. Things that seemed logical, when just clearing your mind. For example: that through language metaphor choices differences in culture originate. <p>
Another one is how the need to “store” agriculture produce, in warehouses, led to more sedentary settlements and societies. “Duh”, one might say.. yet many did not thought about it clearly. The same with the link between language use starting, or “articulating” cultural development. <p>
To illustrate this, one word I wish to focus on in this blog post, is the word Kush, or the related term Cushite. In areas I am interested in, language, music, history, and geography, I kept encountering the terms Kush or Cushite. Whether written with a C or K. <p>
The interesting thing is that the similar terms I noticed being used with seemingly different meanings. <p>
<b>WEED</b><P>
Amsterdam, where I live, still has a name as a “free” marijuana-smoking, “coffeeshop” centre. Living for over 20 years in Amsterdam now, and not far from the city before that, I must also point out something. This “coffeeshop” image, seemed cool abroad, and even a source of pride for some Amsterdammers. The truth of the matter is, however, that the last decades the coffeeshops – such as the number of them – have been constantly under attack -, as were the every opening hours. After all, marijuana was only “decriminalized” in Dutch law, not “legalized”, which is a misconception. Governmental authorities thus still can limit and proscribe. <p>
An “anti weed-tourism”, and – equally odd and intolerant – general “anti-tourism” current among Central Amsterdam residents, ultimately led to swindling numbers of coffee-shops, from around 1993 over 400 in Amsterdam, to now (2023) around 160. The opening hours of weed-selling coffeeshops were limited by law over time from 03:00 (and even 04:00 in some places), to 01:00. Recently added legislation decreed further that no new coffeeshops can be opened. <p>
Smoking marijuana on the streets of the oldest part of the Centre in Amsterdam (Nieuwmarkt/”Red Light” area), has this year (since May 2023) even been forbidden and finable. <p>
Despite this clear, “bullying” anti-coffeeshop/free-weed smoking policy, Amsterdam still – now in 2023 - has maintained quite some free-marijuana buy or smoke “coffeeshops”; just enough to maintain that image, however more and more limited and tainted. <p>
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<p>
I relate all this, because in several of these coffeeshops, they also sell “Kush”-type weeds. It is a common term in the marijuana-growers and –smokers world. After research I found out it refers to a mountain range in Pakistan/Afghanistan, known as Hindu Kush: a region with a long marijuana-growing history, especially of the potent “Indica” strain named, thus, Kush (original etymology is from a local language). Potent Indica means good to relax or sleep, rather than to party (for which uplifting “Sativa” strain weed is more suitable). <p>
Weed experts (they are quite abundant) point at the common mistaken use of the term “Kush” nowadays, among “potheads”, often just meaning – or supposed to mean - “high grade” (high quality) when put behind a name of some weed/marijuana. Often there is not even a genetic relation with the Pakistan/Afghanistan Hindus Kush mountains anymore. It seems thus just a “weed marketing” term. <p>
The term apparently got – derived from this - a life of its own internationally, as “Kush” is also a term used for an illegal drug (deemed “dangerous") in Sierra Leone. <p>
<b>AFRICA</b><p>
When I encountered this term: on coffeeshop menus in Amsterdam or when smokers mentioned it – whether really genetically from that Hindu Kush region or not - , I however thought of something entirely else, showing my personal interest in history and languages. I thought of the language branch, I read about: “the Cushitic/Cushite languages”, spoken in quite another part of the world: Eastern (the “Horn of”) Africa: Somalia, Ethiopia and surroundings. <p>
I also heard of the historical, ancient Kingdom of Kush, in Nubia in Africa (around Sudan), in the Nile-valley, with connections to famous Ancient Egypt, north of it, spreading South as far as central Sudan. Nubian dynasties provided Egypt with several “Black African” pharaos and kings or influences, contradicting the later “whitening” of Ancient Egypt, in Western (but also Arab) sources. The Nubian Kingdom of Kush arose from around 1100 BC, and had its peak around – historians say – around 770 BC, even dominating Egypt. Since then Egypt had Nubian/Kush pharaos. <p>
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Important cities of Nubia/the kingdom of Kush included Napata, in present-day Sudan. The fact that there are more pyramids as such in present-day Sudan than in Egypt, are an historic testament to this glorious period. <p>
My own instrumental as a musician – named Napata - refers to that, also visually in its video photos (pyramids in present-day Sudan). <p>
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The word “Kush” for this kingdom, south of Egypt, is probably of local origin. <p>
<b>CUSHITIC LANGUAGES</b><p>
I always assumed a link with the kingdom of Kush the mentioned Cushitic languages (and ethnic groups speaking them), in the Horn of Africa, but confusingly enough this is only limitedly there. Turns out that “Cush” is also a name in the Bible, of one of the sons of Ham (Cham). Ham gave the name Hamites to Northern Africans (Berber people), and Western linguists apparently wanted to name the newly categorized Afro-Asiatic language branch, distantly related to Hamitic languages, in Eastern Africa, after this Biblical character, Cush. <p>
Of course there is a distance between Sudan and Oromia and Somalia – just like there is between Denmark and Spain, for instance – but still: a connection to Nubia seemed not far-fetched for me, also because Sudan borders Ethiopia, where the Oromo speak their Cushitic language. One of the larger ones –in fact – with over 25 million speakers, followed by quite some Somali speakers. <p>Cushitic languages are moreover also known in parts of what is now NE Sudan (even Egypt), and nearby western Eritrea. Not too far East of where once Napata/Kush was. The Beja people there speak a Cushitic language (the northern-most of the branch).<p>
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Both the Somali as the Oromo put somehow into question the “Asiatic” in the Afro-Asiatic language family. Though a very, very distant relationship is assumed by linguists with Semitic languages, and also a very distant one between Berber and Cushitic languages, genetic and archeological studies point at local African origins of both the Oromo people (in Southern Ethiopia and bordering Kenya), and of Somali people and language in Somalia itself. Very superficially a relatively darker skin, and more sub-Saharan African features – when compared to e.g. Arabs – already point at this. <p>
Whereas the “Dutch coffeeshop”, marijuana-smokers term “Kush” refers in fact to South Asia and the Pakistan region, other meanings of Kush or Cushite thus refer to Africa. <p>
This – like the term Nubian – has obtained a symbolical function among parts of the African diaspora in the West (Americas) as an identity reaffirmation and connection with ancestral Africa, where they were stolen from. <p>
Nubia(ns) historically indeed had a High Civilization when compared to Europe at the time, and were mostly Black Africans: this was highly developed, and not just a myth invented by a Black power hobbyist, as some unjustly ridicule it. <p>
<b>REGGAE</b><p>
In the Black Power-influenced Rastafari movement, and consequently in many Reggae lyrics, “Cushite” is used too, just as “Nubian”, to refer to an African heritage, similarly as in some “conscious” hip-hop among African-Americans in the US, and since the days of Malcolm X. <p>
The Jamaican Reggae artist Winston McAnuff called his band (to perform and record with) the Black Kush band. A more recent, younger Reggae and Dancehall artist, also Rastafari-inspired, also goes by the name of Black Kush. <p>
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There was a Roots Reggae band called the Cushites as well (already by the 1970s). <p>
More recently, also a lady singer (from Trinidad and Tobago) calls herself Kushite. With fine songs and good singing, she seems talented enough. From US Virgin Islands hails the artist calling himself Abja De Kushite. <p>
Another Rastafari-inspired musical Reggae group from Jamaica (with older members) active now calls itself KushArt. <p>
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Among these conscious Rastafari-adhering Reggae artists, and also when used in lyrics – such as in I Wayne’s lyrics “The Kushites keep prevailing” (on the fine song Trample The Beast), a link with Africa seems more probable, than a quite shallow reference to the “kush” type of weed/marijuana. This use is not absent, even in Jamaica.. but only in cases when the lyrics are about marijuana. <p>
Cushite or Kush is, again confusingly, therefore also used in reference to Marijuana (the Indica strain) in some Reggae lyrics, even by Rastafari-adhering artists often referring to Africa too. Yet another somehow confusing aspects of the use of the term “Cush”. <p>
This confusion is played with, you can say. Hempress Sativa’s mellow song Kushite Love might refer to marijuana involvement (see also the weed-based wordplay of her artist name) in the love making, but also to fine love making between two black/African-descended people: she and a Black man. “African love”, so to speak. <p>
“It’s all good”, in my opinion, as Black Americans say. <p>
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I imagined for a while that it might be marijuana from that part of Africa (just like you have weed from Congo or South Africa), and hash is smoked a lot in the Sudan-region - but it turns out I was mistaken (Hindu Kush mountains, Pakistan/Afghanistan), as I learned. <p>
Well: in one’s own head one is free to still make and fantasize about that connection, haha. <p>
<b>SELASSIE</b><p>
There are, besides this, also Reggae lyrics referring to Kush or Cushite as in Africa. Quite reasonably, as Ethiopia, of which Emperor Haile Selassie (venerated/worshipped among Rastafari) was Emperor, has a large “Cushitic-language” speaking ethnic group, the Oromo, of which – moreover – Haile Selassie himself partly descended. <p>
Though often associated with the Amhara ethnicity (of which Selassie for another part also descended), the Emperor had through both his parents in fact a mixed-Ethiopian ethnic background (Amhara, Oromo, Gurage, a.o.). So, he was in fact also “Cushitic”, ethnically, one might say, though identified as Amhara (and as a Christian). <p>
In Ethiopia itself, the (mostly Orthodox Christian) Amhara ethnic group – speaking a Semitic-derived language - , are known as a relatively “lighter-skinned”, Arabian Peninsula-descended group, yet: they mixed with local Africans. <p>
This – and the other (African) ethnic origins of Haile Selassie – makes Selassie being a deity/figurehead for the Afro-centric Rastafari movement at least sensible, certainly in a symbolic sense. <p>
<b>HISTORY OF AFRICA</b><p>
Therefore, despite the worn-out cliché of Rasta Reggae artists smoking marijuana (incl. Kush for Indica-likers), the term Cushite has a significant, quite interesting meaning in the originally Jamaican Rastafari movement. Multiple, yet valuable. Perhaps by extension – also in light of the ancient Nubian kingdom Kush – also for the entire African Diaspora and Africa itself. <p>
It helps at least to shed light on the fact that Africa had a varied and developed history before slavery put it on the self-interested European colonizers’ map. It had advanced civilizations – including science - at the time when Greek and Rome still lived as the primitive “Barbarians” they later criticized. <p>
An advanced civilization is not always good or more humane for all – after all often requiring exploitation and slavery – than a human life more balanced with nature, but it shows the variety and versatility of Africa’s rich history, including of sub-Saharan “Black” Africans, when part of the Europeans still lived in caves or huts, and not yet cities. <p>
Again: “cities” - the big city - is not by definition a good thing, and often a prerequisite for conquest and exploitation. The first city with 100.000 inhabitants was ancient Babylon (enslaving many people), in present-day Iraq, and the first one with a million inhabitants Rome, in present-day Italy, known for military conquests and unequal societies with slavery. <p>
The Nubian Kingdom of Kush, and before that Egypt, bordering in the North to it, were similar “conquering”, powerful (and unequal) civilizations, with slavery. Kush was particularly known for its gold, enabling its power. <p>
<b>MORE?</b> <p>
Other meanings of Kush I do not know of, though Indica-strain ”Kush” weeds indeed stimulate sleeping/relaxing (downers), reason for which I find the similarity to the French word “couch(er)” (to lay down, go to bed/sleep) a funny coincidence. Pure coincidence, as Latin-derived. In Spanish (another Latin-derived language) it would be “acostar(se)”, so quite different, but from the same Latin root.. <p>
All these multiple meaning are thus at the same times confusing, as they are interesting and creative. <p>
All this illustrates what was explained in the ‘Antropology for Dummies’ book I reviewed once: the possibility of language (methapors) for cultural creation.
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-56683032797694461602023-06-01T08:54:00.003-07:002023-06-01T09:21:41.637-07:00Maracas, Cuba, and Fernando OrtizIt almost is like the proverbial “elephant in the room”, in my case: the Maracas. A well-known, round-like with handle, shaker instrument known from Cuban and “Latin” musical cultures mostly, although not always under that name. <p>
I am a percussionist, and wrote quite a lot about percussion instruments on my (this) blog. Instruments I use a lot, and even those a bit less (my article about tambourines, for instance). Maybe in one sense the “Maracas” seemed too cliché, too common an instrument, to warrant extra attention, but that is not even true. <p>
I find the Maracas as used in e.g. Cuban music in fact interesting. It might not seem a “spectacular” or “rough” instrument, rather “mellow” and “soft”, one might say, but it is nice and even more influential than some would imagine. Maracas also have a long history, that is global. <p>
<b>FERNANDO ORTIZ</b><p>
I recently read a small book by Cuban anthropologist Fernando Ortiz (1881-1969), who studied Afro-Cuban life and culture, and had influence even in wider Caribbean studies. There is also an institute in Cuba named after him (which I visited). <p>
Ortiz was a white Cuban (of primarily Spanish descent) with a sincere interest in Afro-Cuban culture. It became sincere, but started out wrong. Early in his career more politically involved, he started studying criminal life among some Black Cubans, even employing some nonsensical, not to say morally dubious theories, such as from the rightly discarded “phrenology” idea: that criminal tendencies would show in the physical traits of people (outside, or the brain). That he focused on black Cubans at first, made it even more dubious. Also, the link between phrenology and now also discarded eugenics is historically tainted, though the latter “eugenic” foolishness persisted even beyond Nazism, up to the 1970s in parts of the US and Europe (the father of the influential billionaire Bill Gates was involved in it). <p>
These Afro-Cuban “underground” people Ortiz “studied”, were mostly members from the secret society Abakuá (largely of Efik-Ibibio, Calabar/Cameroun/Nigeria origin) that had cultural organizations, regarded though – today we would say “framed” – also as criminal havens. Largely unjustly criminalized, but the government wanted more control (even before communism). <p>
Ortiz however proved, over time, that he had an open mind, and was not a hardcore racist. He even changed - also by his own admittance - starting to focus on the beauty and variety of Afro-Cuban expressions: its varied African origins, and contributions to Cuban culture and music. Maybe it’s even a kind of “falling in love”, in some sense. There’s some “literary” beauty in this change of Ortiz, from Saul to Paul.., haha<p>
Henceforth this became his focus, as he also became more anti-racist by the 1940s.
He wrote some larger studies about Afro-Cuban and Cuban culture, with some anthropological influence even beyond “Cuban studies” - such as his coining of the term “transculturation” – but also some smaller works about aspects of Afro-Cuban culture. <p>
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<b>MARACAS BOOK</b><p>
As part of his series about typical Afro Cuban musical instruments, Ortiz also wrote about Maracas (shakers), in the 1950s. The book ‘Las Maracas’ in the series ‘Los instrumentos de la musica afrocubana” (the instruments of Afro-Cuban music), by Fernando Ortiz.. <p>
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<p>
This I read recently, and I will focus on it, as fitting the theme I chose. It further also served me, to find out what I really know about shakers or Maracas. <p>
Ortiz’s book seemed to have appeared only in Spanish (a translation is a good idea), but luckily I can read that language. <p>
I do not know much about the academic culture in Cuba or the Spanish-speaking world of then, but this small book is more a “flux de bouche” as they say in French, or “ramble” in English. With little structure, paragraphs, no blank lines/extra space, or heads.. <p>
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<p>
Fortunately, Ortiz writes quite attractively and engagingly, though with a tendency to “comma writing” as I call it: long sentences with “side paths”. I have that tendency too, so won’t criticize it too much, haha. <p>
In the book, anyway, he shows his open mind and wide interest. He also shows his broad knowledge about – or study of - cultures even outside Cuba, as a true anthropologist. <p>
One thing I asked myself about Maracas, were their origins. Of course, I saw Maracas being played often by Cuban musical groups – in Cuba itself – and in other “folksy” genres from the Caribbean, Latin America, or Africa. I even saw it sometimes as part of the “repertoire” or standard set of percussionists even in ‘pop music” groups (modern Reggae, Funk, R&B). I even played them myself live (on Funk, Blues, Latin, or Reggae music). <p>
Despite its evident place in “Black” music, I always wondered if their origins might by African or Amerindian. Also because I read somewhere about its historical use among Amerindians in the Americas, including in the Amazon region. Later I noted Shékere and other shaker uses in traditional African music, of course, roundish and gourd-based, but these could differ in shape from this “rounder” Maracas (with stick) shape.. I thought so, at least.. <p>
Here Ortiz gave me some useful answers in his book. <p>
<b>ROOTS AND ROUTES</b><p>
As the Wikipedia-articles are short and not very informative, I could not find much before. Under the name Ortiz used, “maracas”, there were at least only short articles in Wikipedia in English and Dutch – of mediocre quality - , and a bit a longer one in Spanish, also not very good. <p>
By the way, the terminology in the Netherlands is kind of funny, as the Maracas are also known in Dutch as “sambaballen”, literally: “samba balls” . One might think: just colloquially, I imagine?.. no, even semi-official. Of course it is not correct, especially since not used (round maracas) as such in Brazilian samba. Brazil has its own known “shakers” (like the cylindrical Ganza, different from Maracas), besides similar, “roundish” Maracas with stick (named also Maracas in Brazil). The “vague exotic” as reference in Dutch.. There was even carnival pop hit song about it, high on the Dutch charts with “samba-ballen” in the title, by comedian André van Duin. Admittedly, not "high" culture or comedy (according to some), but the term "sambaballen" is still used in Dutch, if erroneous. <p><iframe width="430" height="242" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/s6E3xVz01bw" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen></iframe><p>
Ortiz pays some attention to the etymology of “maracas”. Not uninteresting, but with the risk of becoming tedious, after finding out that the word has Amerindian origins, comparing among languages. Some authors (including those cited on Wikipedia) trace the term “maraca” back to the Guarani in and around Paraguay. <p>
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He pays more attention to origins of the instrument itself, and this I found more interesting. It is a bit blemished – maybe – by some less-political correct terminology (by today’s standards), but overall very engaging and educational. <p>
<b>PRIMITIVE</b><p>
Ortiz associates the shaker use with “primitive” cultures, and takes on a global approach. Africa, Asia, the Americas: all knew “shaker” or “maraca”-like instruments. <p>
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He details the “sacred” and ritual use of maracas in various Amerindian cultures, such as the Tupi in the Amazon region, among the Guarani, the Guyanas, among the Inca, in Mexico, and further concentrating on the Arowaks (or Tainos) that once lived in Cuba, before Columbus. The maracas were used with different intensities – or not at all - among Amerindian groups, dependent further on period. It was even – according to some scholars – not known before a certain period, when maize growing began in Central America, then on to the Amazon and Guyanas region, from which the Arawaks later travelled to Cuba and other Caribbean islands. <p>
Interestingly to consider, how Ortiz describes, that “maracas” are now absent in more developed, modern societies like Europe, unlike other types of instruments. Too primitive or natural, seems the suggestion. Shaker sounds only survived as indirect references in folk genres in (very) rural parts of Italy, Greece, and Spain. The modern city killed the “soft-sounding”, rustic Maracas, it seemed, one can say. <p>
Its sound (which Ortiz compares to rainfall, one can say ‘jungle sounds” too) is also directly connected to a more (tropical) natural life and surroundings. The African and Amerindian societies, moreover, kept Maracas use alive up to in present-day music, amid modernity.. An interesting fact. <p>
In their early stage, the maracas/shaker use was not yet so widespread in the Americas, yet there is historical evidence of Maracas use among at least a part of Taino or Arawaks in Cuba before Columbus, also living on in folk stories. <p>
<b>CUBA</b><p>
With the arrival of Columbus, colonization, and destruction, many “pure” Tainos (related to Arawaks) disappeared from Cuba: slavery, death, while the remaining ones mixed with Europeans and Africans in Cuba. <p>
When I was in Cuba, I heard that the remaining Arawak (or in Spanish: Tainos) Amerindian blood was visible in racial mixtures of people in the region around the Far East of Cuba (around Baracoa), and some pockets in Eastern Cuba, and in the Far West (tobacco growing), Pinar Del Río part of Cuba. <p>
What’s said in the Wikipedia article: that they are of Amerindian origin, including the well-known Cuban one, is according to this book of Ortiz not entirely true.. <p>
He emphasizes in Cuba the relevance of two sources of origins for maracas: the Americas, but also Africa. <p>
He not even states that Africans saw the Maraca used by indigenous Arawaks in Cuba, and that that “reminded” them of their own, but goes further. He points out that Africans despite enslavement could bring their own Maracas-like shakers, according to African values and aesthetics, preferring these over local, present ones, even if having to remake them in Cuba. <p>
In the case of e.g. Venezuela or parts of Colombia, where Amerindians far outnumbered Africans, the Africans there might indeed copy Amerindian models, but in the case of Cuba, according to Ortiz, the Africans brought their own models from Africa. <p>
<b>USE</b><p>
He pays attention to the use of maracas among Afro-Cubans and in Africa, partly sacred, though to a lesser degree than among the Amerindians. It was after all used also mainly musically and rhythmically in African cultures, besides in some spiritual traditions, such as of Yoruba and Congo origin. For the latter, special, “holy” seeds or stone or wood pieces were gathered for the Maracas’ inside. <p>
In Amerindian cultures there was a musical use too, but more often also ritual among some peoples, with not even a musical, but rather “sonic” (messages, healing, other rituals) function. <p>
In some parts of Africa – such as the South East (Mozambique a.a.), there is a specific “female” reserved use for Maracas. Some other parts of Africa too, but within Cuba, Ortiz did not note any “prescribed” gender distinction in Maraca use among Afro-Cubans. <p>
In the neo-African Rastafari tradition, originating in Jamaica since the 1930s, such a gender distinction is found in (spiritual) Nyahbinghi drumming (and chanting) sessions, around “heart beat” rhythms, with clear African musical retentions (Ghana, Congo), but also Protestant and Biblical influences. Maracas/shakers tend to play along with the drummed “heart beats” in Nyabinghi sessions. These drummers are traditionally only men, while women could sing along, and were “allowed” to play shakers, often a kind of wooden maraca, similar in roundish shape to the Cuban ones, only often bigger and decorated), but women were not allowed to play the drums. <p>
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Whether this gender distinction is actually a direct African retention like the Congo/Kumina “heart beat” drumming or Kete drums, or rather a later, even “Bible-influenced” rule, added in Protestant-influenced Jamaica, is hard to determine. Some Nyahbinghi Rastas assume an African retention, others refer to the Bible. <p>
<b>DEVELOPMENTS</b><p>
He further sketches developments of the forms of Maracas, from almost purely natural calabashes and gourds with dried seeds - natural shakers, so to speak - to “man-made” ones (with sticks). Such old, “natural” gourd shakers are still used in traditional Igbo music (SE Nigeria), for instance, and elsewhere in Africa. <p>
Proper man-made Maracas, Ortiz further explains, have that stick through the whole and to the top, else – with loose stick added – it is mostly “for tourist” souvenir of Cuba use, and less enduring. Sizes and seed use came to differ over time, being originally comparable in size to “oranges”, but bigger maracas (like say: a melon- or watermelon-size) developed too. Colombian-syle maracas tend to be these bigger ones.. Material changed from gourd to other fruits, wood, and later even metal and other material. <p>
That is where the “route” more or less stops, as Ortiz pays much more attention to the “roots” of maracas, than its routes. He follows the historical “route” a bit, but not into the various Cuban (or Latin American) music genres of recent times.. <p>
He wrote this in the 1950s, but these (Son, Rumba, Mambo, etcetera) existed by then too. In this book – and in others of the series – he addresses more the Afro-Cuban religious/spiritual use, such as in Santería and Congo (Mayombe) religions. <p>
In another book, about Abakuá instruments, he points out that these do not use shakers or maracas, but African traditions of Yoruba or Congo origin, like Santería and Mayombe quite a lot of shakers, also historically. <p>
The common use of Maracas in early forms of Son, the Son Changui, in Guantánamo, Eastern Cuba, might point at a Congo, rather than an Amerindian origin, as long assumed. There is after all a strong Congo influence in Eastern Cuba, noticeable in Son music (and related later Salsa, Bachata, and other genres), also because of the high percentage of slaves from the Congo region in Eastern Cuba. <p>
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It became common in popular Cuban music, a route this book by Ortiz only hints at, and with that influenced other Latin American and Caribbean genres. He takes this use in Cuba for granted, hinting further at indications of more future use by Western musicians, or in classical music.. <p>
Ortiz also chose to give practical playing information, though in a broad sense, and other “material” issues, such as of what’s the variation of seeds used inside the Maracas. From etymology, he deduces that in the Congo region originally maize/corn seeds tended to be used. Later more varied seeds, or stones. Even non-natural pieces. <p>
<b>CONCLUSION</b><p>
Fernando Ortiz’s short study for his book on Maracas, is thus more about its origins, and gives quite some practical and material details of the instrument. <p>
Its spread throughout different Caribbean and Latin music genres would of course be an interesting topic, including aspects like different uses/playing styles. <p>
That is left more, presumably, to musicologists or historians. <p>
Still, I found the book about Maracas useful and informative for me, especially teaching me about the Maracas’ roots, as both Amerindian and African, in the case of Cuba. A good tree needs good roots – like a natural foundation -, and the “branches” of this firmly rooted tree – on which percussionists like me move – then grow by themselves.. <p>
The Spanish text on the book’s back cover uses “big words” for Ortiz’s works on ‘Los instrumentos de la musica afrocubana’, describing the series of books as “monumental” and even “no superada hasta ahoy”, translatable as: “not outdone (or improved) up to today” – even if going back to the 1950s. <p>
Big words, but at least regarding the “roots” and origins of the Maracas, Fernando Ortiz’s small, anthropological book The Maracas, remains indeed foundational, and the main information source, cited/quoted also in later academic studies on Cuban and other music.. It was in that sense “groundbreaking”, even this small book on Maracas I discussed here. <p>
I think, anyway, that these origins are good to know for me, as a percussion player, perhaps even necessary.. <p>
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Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-92077034678948900672023-05-02T10:22:00.008-07:002023-05-02T10:59:13.361-07:00Simon CarmiggeltSimon Carmiggelt (1913-1987) was een bijzondere Nederlandse auteur, maar is ook één van die “televisie-herinneringen” voor veel mensen. Zonder twijfel is dat een “generatie-ding”. Tot in de 1980s heb ik nog bewust zijn zogenaamde ‘kronkels’ op televisie gezien: voorgelezen verhaaltjes, anekdotisch, meestal poetisch. Iemand – mogelijk hijzelf – noemde deze treffend “schetsen”, wat ik een mooie aanduiding vind. Alledaagse taferelen en gesprekken, maar toch met een diepere laag. In 1987 was zijn laatste tv-uitzending en “kronkel”. Hij was echter al veel langer op tv, ook in de jaren 70 bij de VARA. <p>
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<b>SOCIAAL-DEMOCRATISCH</b><p>
Carmiggelt is geboren in Den Haag. Of hij een “Hagenaar” – uit een rijk deel/rijke familie – of een “Hagenees” – uit een armer deel of armere familie – weet ik eigenlijk niet. Hij zat in ieder geval veelal in de “linkse”, sociaal-democratische hoek – kwam ook uit zo’n nest -, en schreef zijn stukken (“kronkels” of “schetsen”) dan ook een flink deel van zijn leven voor sociaal-democratische kranten als Vooruit, deel van Het Volk, en later dus voor het Parool. Hij deed ook (kritisch) verslag van het fascisme in Nederland vóór de oorlog, de NSB van Mussert en kleinere clubs. <p>
Hij verzette zich al steeds meer tegen de Nazi’s, na de bezetting in 1940, onder meer via heimelijk verzetswerk - dus bleef kritisch. Ook werd hij ontslagen omdat hij weigerde de "Ariër-verklaring" te tekenen. Voorzichtig (want hij had een gezin) was hij dus rebels. Zijn indirecte betrokkenheid bij oprichting van verzetsblad het Parool, en de verspreiding ervan, deden hem uiteindelijk opgepakt worden. Dat latere verzetswerk voor het Parool in de oorlogsjaren, deden Carmiggelt uiteindelijk ook in Amsterdam belanden en ook blijven. <p>
Puur naar de manier kijkend waarop hij in Amsterdam terecht kwam, deels toeval, deels keuze, en op dezelfde leeftijd (we waren beide rond de 29 jaar oud, toen we naar Amsterdam kwamen), herken ik mijzelf wel in Carmiggelt, zij het in een totaal andere tijd, en ik kwam uit een klein Noord-Holland’s dorp, hij uit Den Haag. Net als ik had hij een nuttige “blik van buiten” op de hoofdstad, die soms van zelfgenoegzaamheid aan elkaar hangt, maar ook fascineert door de variatie, drukte, en gekte. Verder “hingen” we wel grotendeels in andere kringen, maar dat even terzijde. <p>
Op zijn minst sympathiseerde hij voorts met de onderklasse, of hij nu wel hun ontberingen kende uit ervaring, of niet: dat laatste komt immers zo vaak voor. Arme arbeiders houden minder tijd en energie over na hun zware, vaak geestdodende werk dienend om alleen maar rond te komen, voor iets als schrijven, kunst maken, of zelfs filosoferen over hun levenssituatie. ‘Erst das Fressen, dann die Moral’, dixit Berthold Brecht. <p>
Ik herinner mij dat Carmiggelt’s “kronkels” mij aanspraken: de droge, doch plezierig-relativerende manier waarop hij ze voorlas, en de verhalen zelf. Vaak gingen die verhalen over een stad, de grote stad, Amsterdam, zo’n 20 km van waar ik toen woonde. Vaak in kroegen. Niet eens zo ver, maar moeilijk bereikbaar voor mij op die leeftijd, en een andere, fascinerende, spannende grootstedelijke wereld. <p>
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<b>KROEG</b><p>
Of het een reëel beeld was, betwijfel ik nu, maar ik had een beeld van Amsterdamse, specifiek Jordanese, “bruine” kroegen waar eigenzinnige, grappige types rondhingen, met die typisch Amsterdamse “bijdehante” humor, en zelfs voor noordelijke streken toch aardig wat “Napolitaanse” zanglust, imitatie of niet. <p>
Mijn moeder vertelde mij ooit een leuk verhaal. Vertaald uit het Spaans zei ze het zo: “je vader nam me een keer mee naar zo’n Jordanese, Amsterdamse kroeg, sommige dronken mensen zongen mee..”.. <p>
Ik kon eruit niet opmaken of ze het leuk vond. Hoe ze het formuleerde was het iets als “het was blijkbaar nodig”. Mogelijk verstond ze toen ook weinig. Vrijheid is altijd beter – zelfs vrijheid met “slechte” of andere smaak – zal ze waarschijnlijk gedacht hebben, immers na het cynisme, de repressie, en de leugenachtigheid, in het Spanje onder het (fascistische) Franco regime, dat ze pas verlaten had. <p>
Een wat meer en eerder geïntegreerde Italiaan – die al aardig wat Nederlands sprak – wilde even zijn kersverse Spaanse vrouw helpen integreren en Nederland begrijpen. Dat vond ik eigenlijk het mooiste van dit verhaal. Een soort ongemakkelijk geuite liefde. <p>
Welnu, zo’n verhaal van mijn moeder, maar dan met meer “dialoog”, zou ook een verhaal, een “kronkel” van Carmiggelt kunnen zijn. <p>
<b>PRAATGROEPEN</b><p>
Hij schreef weliswaar vooral over wat oudere Nederlandse, wat burgerlijk levende, mensen – wel vaak echtparen -, maar qua thematiek en setting waren er overeenkomsten. Ook de “ongemakkelijk geuite liefde” is terugkerend is in Carmiggelt’s verhalen. <p>
Het was ook de tijd toen mannen moeilijker open over gevoelens praten, zeker van wat oudere generaties, zoals mijn vader, en de echtgenoten, kroegtijgers, en oude vaders die Carmiggelt’s verhalen bevolken. <p>
Die hadden de jaren 70 hippie en “flower power” tijd niet echt meegemaakt. De “praatgroepen”, de “feminisering” van mannen, zoals schrijver Stephan Sanders dat eens beschreef, van de commune’s en progressiever onderwijs; dat had nog weinig invloed op mannen van deze oudere generatie. Mannen moesten mannen zijn, werken, en stoer doen. Niet in elk geval hetzelfde als liefdeloos zijn, maar wel vaak zakelijk en afstandelijk. <p>
Over die moeizame gesprekken en uitingen tussen mensen, en vaak ook man en vrouw, gingen veel van Carmiggelt’s “schetsen”. Dit analyseer ik op basis van een grote steekproef van zijn verhalen. <p>
<b>THEMA’S</b><p>
Een diepere, maatschappelijke betekenis, richting het abstracte, vermeed Carmiggelt vaak, merkte ik. Uitbuiting, armoede, vervolging, als thema’s dienen wel regelmatig als referentie voor de “schets” van personen en situaties. Soms ook heel mooi en subtiel, vind ik, zoals hij via een bepaalde woordkeuze toch naar onrecht of misstanden verwijst, vanuit het alledaagse. Menselijke relaties en “eenzaamheid” blijven daarbij echter toch hoofdthema’s. <p>
Elders op dit blog maak ik wel het onderscheid tussen schrijvers goed in “denkprocessen” en directe communicatie, en die beter in sfeer- en beeldschetsen, in het visualiseren. <p>
Carmiggelt is duidelijk van de eerste categorie. Hij beschrijft gesprekken tussen mensen, voornamelijk. De settings waar deze plaatsvinden worden wel genoemd maar niet beschreven, of slechts heel schetsmatig. Het gaat hem om de menselijke relaties in die setting. <p>
Een licht-formele toon was Carmiggelt niet vreemd. Beleefde aanspreekvormen, maar ook formeel ten aanzien van instituties. Dit diende denk ik onbewust om zijn gevoel er buiten te houden, of in ieder geval te beperken: zo van: “ik verlies mij hier niet in loze emotie, maar houd het zakelijk..”. Hetzelfde doel diende de soms wat archaïsche woordkeuze. <p>
<b>DROOGKOMISCH</b><p>
Net zo “droog” als hij de gesprekken of gedragingen optekent of beschrijft. Echter: hier is Carmiggelt wat speelser en vrijer in zijn beschrijvingen, met meer ruimte voor gevoelens. <p>
Vaak ook humoristisch en droogkomisch, zulke nevenbeschouwingen. Zoals het noemen in een van zijn verhalen in de bundel getiteld ‘Weet Ik Veel’ (typische titel) van een vroegere schoolgenoot, die Carmiggelt als spreker wilde boeken. Carmiggelt had weinig herinneringen aan hem, maar hij merkte dat de schoolgenoot zo enthousiast over die middelbare school-tijd sprak dat hij, zo dacht hij, “daarna nooit meer iets leuks had meegemaakt”. Daar moest ik om lachen. <p>
Het was ook een grappige en herkenbare observatie, maar zo heeft hij er aardig wat door zijn “schetsen”. Ik had regelmatig glimlach-momenten, zelfs af en toe “hardop lach” momenten. <p>
Iets ertussen in had ik bij weer zo’n droogkomische beschrijving van Carmiggelt, ook in de bundel Weet Ik Veel. Een man komt een café binnen en noemt een naam, en of die van de eigenaar achter de bar was. Carmiggelt beschreef hoe de kastelein “zonder geestdrift” hierop zei “dat ben ik”. <p>
Een klein, maar grappig detail, want herkenbaar. Een nuchtere, Amsterdamse Nederlandse man, bijna-mompelend en op rustige toon, zonder stemverheffing: “dat ben ik”. <p>
Die woorden “zonder geestdrift” zijn des te genialer gekozen, omdat het toch raar is als iemand je vraagt “ben je.. (en dan je hele naam)..”. Zelfs voor een bareigenaar, want die kent men hoogstens van voornaam. Dat er geen geestdrift is toch wel noemenswaardig. <p>
Met veelal als achtergrond Amsterdam, en in die tijd, speelde de oorlog uiteraard een rol in een deel van zijn “kronkels”, maatschappelijke problemen en ongelijkheid ook in vele “schetsen” direct of indirect, maar toch.. Het ging vooral om het alledaagse optekenen, en menselijke relaties. <p>
<b>ALLEDAAGSE MENSEN</b><p>
Die alledaagse, menselijke relaties dienen eigenlijk niet als middel of “handvat” voor een ideologie, ook niet de “socialistische”. Dat is in Carmiggelt te prijzen: hij blijft de concrete, complexe mens zien, geen geabstraheerd “middel” of “functioneel wezen”, immers een voorbode van nog gevaarlijker ontmenselijking. <p>
Daar komen de lessen terug die hij als jongeling leerde in de jaren 30 vóór de Tweede Wereldoorlog, verslag doend als journalist voor het socialistische blad Vooruit, bij bijeenkomsten van de NSB en verwante fascisten in Nederland. De geuite ideologieën en leuzen op zulke bijeenkomsten waren bepaald totalitair: “men wilde het volk gelukkig maken”, tekende Carmiggelt op. Wijselijk leerde hij hiervan dat zulke politieke “beloften ”het volk gelukkig te maken” kwaadaardig zijn en te wantrouwen. <p>
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Het is bovendien nogal collectivistisch, wat iets is dat fascisme met communisme deelt, en andere totalitaire systemen. Het cijfert het individu weg. Mogelijk dat daarom Carmiggelt zo alledaags en intermenselijk gericht was in zijn “kronkels”. Gewone mensen die leven op hun manier. Psychologie in plaats van sociologie.. <p>
Carmiggelt schrijft daar goed over, onderhoudend en creatief, vaak geestig. Dat wil echter niet zeggen dat ik alle mensen die zijn kronkels bevolken even sympathiek vind. Er zitten schatten bij, maar ook cynische egoïsten, en alles ertussen in. <p>
Dat klopt echter ook, want een doorsnede van Amsterdam. Dat harde, ongevoelige in het karakter van sommige Amsterdammers weerspiegelt de anonieme, koude, en drukke stad. Tegelijkertijd is er in zo’n kille context altijd de zoektocht naar liefde en menselijke warmte, bij veel mensen. <p>
Die zucht en zoektocht komt ook goed naar voren in Carmiggelt’s verhalen, zij het soms wat “onhandig” of indirect geuit. Ook door de ingehouden “pre-praatgroepen” en “pre-hippie tijd” mores. <p>
<b>REPRESENTATIEF</b><p>
In 1987 overleed Carmiggelt. Het is nu een andere tijd, maar ook rond die tijd was Amsterdam al wat multicultureler geworden. Nu zouden qua stijl en focus Carmiggeltiaanse “kronkels” in Amsterdam een stuk diverser zijn. Als ze althans als “representatief” van heel Amsterdam willen gelden. <p>
Het waren in Carmiggelt’s verhalen immers vooral witte Nederlanders van middelbare leeftijd of ouder, vaak tamelijk ordelijk levend, gezinnetjes, opgroeiende kinderen, de rekeningen betalen..zulke besognes. Alcohol bleek vaak de grootste ondeugd in tamelijk burgerlijke leventjes. <p>
Er zaten weinig vrijdenkende, losgeslagen kunstenaars tussen, die ook nog rare drugs gebruikten, of wat jongere anarchistische krakers, zoals je in Carmiggelt’s tijd al had. <p>
Ook zaten er nauwelijks Surinamers tussen, toch een grote groep in Amsterdam. Interessant als groep, omdat de mate van “vernederlandst” zijn wisselt per Surinamer. Ook geen Marokkanen of Turken, of andere groepen. Eigen, wat geslotener gemeenschappen met minder gemengde relaties met Nederlanders dan Surinamers, maar toch.. <p>
Multiculturele relaties en gesprekken – en culturele verschillen - zouden nu een interessant thema voor Carmiggelt’s verhaaltjes zijn, met Amsterdam als achtergrond. <p>
<b>EIGEN ERVARING</b><p>
Uit mijn eigen ervaring kan ik zo een aantal verhalen “opdreunen”, of in ieder geval geestige anekdotes in Amsterdam navertellen, op een Carmiggeltiaanse manier. Zonder al te groffe, seksuele, of intieme details, uiteraard, maar interessante gesprekken en meningen over de wereld en alledaagse levens van bijvoorbeeld een Ghanese in een van die flats in de Bijlmermeer, toen vernieuwende architectuur, anno 2023 verwaarloosd en tochtig. Ook de verhalen vol alledaags crypto-racisme, van een van de weinige Surinaamse café-eigenaars door de jaren heen in de Nieuwmarkt-buurt in het oude centrum van Amsterdam. <p>
Ik ken meerdere “flamboyante” muzikanten en aspirant-muzikanten, en nog een andere categorie die ik als juist "niet-aspirant" muzikanten zou typeren. Ze kunnen goed een instrument bespelen, wat blijkt tijdens jams in clubs, maar hun muzikale ambitie blijft onduidelijk of moeizaam, gezien – ondanks vaak vrije geesten - concessies aan het burgermansleven, waar wel genoeg geld verdiend wordt. Dat is ook interessant, voor een moderne “kronkel”. <p>
Ik heb ook meerdere droogkomische anekdotes of alledaagse “schetsen” over blowers (wiet-gebruikers) in coffeeshops of elders in Amsterdam, legendarische gesprekken in coffeeshops. Een andere leefwereld en leeftijdsgroep dan Carmiggelt’s personages, maar het kan vergelijkbaar geschreven verhalen, of “kronkels” opleveren, net zoals de drinkende, autochtone, oudere mannen in kroegen in een deel van Carmiggelt’s verhalen. <p>
Ik ken verder een Syriër, ooit asielzoeker, die moest wennen aan “lage plafonds” in Amsterdamse woningen, en die de corona “lockdowns” en avondklok herinnerde aan wat hij in Syrië verliet. Om daarna weer Carmiggeltiaans terug te gaan naar het alledaagse. De Syrische jongeman heeft om een of andere reden een voorliefde voor de maté-drank uit Zuid-Amerika te hebben ontwikkeld. Vast op het menu in zijn kleine appartement in Amsterdam-West, ook toen ik bij hem op visite kwam. <p>
Ikzelf raakte op de fiets altijd verdwaald als ik naar Amsterdam-Noord moest, en raakte soms al depressief op de pont over het IJ. Laatst was historisch: voor het eerst raakte ik niet verdwaald. Zit ook een verhaal in, hoewel Carmiggelt meer de nadruk op gesprekken legde. <p>
Allemaal niet erg spectaculaire dingen, die als “schets” toch iets zeggen. Een belangrijke les: dat we allemaal gewoon maar mensen zijn. Ongeacht huidskleur, culturele achtergrond, buitenlander of Nederlander, geslacht, leeftijd, en levenskeuzes. Levenskeuzes kunnen verschillen, maar “ongeveer” en meer abstract willen we allemaal hetzelfde: vervulling en respect. <p>
Dat kan alledaags, beeldend, oer-menselijk zijn, en tegelijk extra leerzaam over maatschappelijke problemen in het huidige Amsterdam. Een beetje zoals Carmiggelt deed: daarnaar verwijzen vanuit het alledaagse leven tussen mensen, maar dan dus met het huidige, diverse Amsterdam als achtergrond. <p>
Geen slecht idee, haha. Ook om te onderzoeken of de 1960s en 1970s “flower power”-tijd hippie-commune “praatgroepen” of feminisering echt mannen beter over “gevoelens” heeft doen praten.. of dat met andere woorden blijvend effect heeft gehad op de huidige, jonge generatie Nederlanders, of bij minderheden die uit een andere cultuur kwamen met minder moderne man-vrouw verhoudingen, en nog “machismo” waarden. Interessante vragen. <p>
Mijn voorzichtige inschatting op basis van mannen die ik ken (Nederlanders, buitenlands, oud en jong) is dat dat effect er is, maar beperkt. Vrouwen zijn nog steeds beter en eerlijker in het open praten over gevoelens. Mannen "bluffen" vaak nog steeds vooral. <p>
<b>CONCLUSIE</b><p>
Hoe dan ook, ik vond Simon Carmiggelt voor zijn tijd een goede, onderhoudende schrijver en verteller. Uniek met zijn droogkomische “schetsen” van het alledaagse in Amsterdam, een goed tijdsbeeld gevend van “gewone”, veelal autochtone Amsterdammers. Ik hou ook van schrijven, sinds mijn vroege tienerjaren, dus kan mogelijk een beetje door Carmiggelt beïnvloed zijn, bij mijn pogingen essays en romans te schrijven, al vrees ik dat de invloed van iemand als Mulisch groter is geweest, en van latere Nederlandse schrijvers en essayisten (Stephan Sanders bijv.), naast buitenlandse schrijvers (Frans, Spaans, Nigeriaans, Caraïbisch e.a.). <p>
Hij speelde een goede, zelfs heldhaftige rol bij de begintijd van het Parool, in verzet tegen het Nazi regime in bezet Nederland, met alle risico’s van dien, maar voor de waarheid en vrijheid. <p>
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Carmiggelt leefde dat min of meer door zijn oprechte menselijke interesse – de mens als doel op zichzelf beschouwend, en niet als middel voor een ideologie - , en bleef bovendien ook schrijven voor het Parool tot zijn dood in 1987. <p>
Dat “verzet” is voorzichtig gezegd wat minder duidelijk, de laatste jaren in het huidige dagblad het Parool, net als bij andere dagbladen; overheidsnarratieven worden doorgaans blind gevolgd (de corona en “vaccin” nonsens), bij uitzondering wat kritische zin, van een dwarse columnist, maar geen systeemkritiek, niet eens regeringskritiek, en wel heel selectieve “quasi-linkse” verontwaardiging rond bepaalde thema’s, maar hypocriet gezwijg over ander onrecht. Ook onrecht (in Afrika bijvoorbeeld) dat ook “linkse” mensen ter harte zou moeten gaan. Aandacht voor grotendeels fictieve klimaatproblematiek, in plaats van voor echte milieuproblemen, etcetera, etcetera. Weinig echt “wereldverbeterends”, in de goede zin van het woord: “a far cry” van de verzetsjaren. <p>
De reden zal zijn, zoals zo vaak tegenwoordig: “alles voor het grote geld”. Mensen/individuen worden geen belangwekkende doelen op zich (zoals in Carmiggelt’s “kronkels” nog wel), maar slechts een middel, zoals in alle –ismen (fascisme, communisme, kapitalisme), tot een extern of “hoger” doel of (eigen)belang. <p>
Iets met omdraaien in het graf..
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-18134087118504316282023-04-03T21:01:00.020-07:002023-04-04T09:55:23.602-07:00Dub PoetryDub Poetry is a Jamaican invention from the 1970s. Poetry on Reggae music, often with Dub effects. Jamaican-inspired, but also with an influential British branch, with a.o. Linton Kwesi Johnson. Branches also are in other places with many Jamaican migrants, such as Toronto. <p>
Starting in the 1970s, it really set off since the Early 1980s. <p>
<b>LKJ</b><p>
This I more or less knew, intrigued as I became when first hearing Linton Kwesi Johnson, with Bass Culture (1980) his first album I heard, around when I was 15 years old, around 1989. I liked reggae by then, even had fallen in love with it. My passion for poetry, however, was more temperate, though not absent. I liked playing with words, at times. I had some interest in literary writings (novels, even experimental ones), liked writing essays, and even tried to write some poems as well. I soon started writing song lyrics - related to poetry - as well, just liking the prospect of “cool” songs with good lyrics. <p>
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<b>BOOKWORM</b><p>
I had a “bookworm” period in my life, starting in my teens, but which slowly diminished after I became 30. I still read a lot (inc. social sciences), nonfiction, but less fiction. I guess I sought: “reality”, in some sense, and outside of the house. A busy pace, which left behind the timeless and solitary exploring in my youth of poems in books, Federico García Lorca, Pablo Neruda, Ben Okri, or less known ones. I read their poems too, but focused now more on actual human/social interaction. <p>
So, although with less intensity, literary reading and writing remained an interest of mine. <p>
I therefore also listen to lyrics of Dub Poets like, comparing with other poems I know, from different cultures. <p>
<b>VOCAL</b><p>
First of all, though, I noticed the “flow” of the lyrics in Dub Poets, differing from Jamaican “Toasting” vocals. The styles can have similarities, but Toasting “rides” a riddim/beat more rhythmically – the precursor of Rap - , while Dub Poets rather “command” the riddim/beat. <p>Dub Poetry vocals - especially of the LKJ school - is often more like "talking" - with intonation and emphasis - than Toasting, which has a melodic musicality in it, even if not full singing as in other Reggae subgenres. The "soul" found in some good Reggae singing, is therefore not so much found in Dub Poetry, though emotions and "soul" can still be expressed by changing tempo, way of declamation, or screams and cries.<p>
Crucially, Dub Poetry songs usually have each their own, original music (riddim/beat), not pre-set riddims. Sometimes, such an older Studio One or Channel One Reggae riddim echoes in dub poetry songs, even if newly composed. This makes it artistically more free or experimental.<p>
The vocal difference of Dub poets with Toasting/Chatting is interesting, I think. What makes the flow different? Analyzing it, I can resume it as “theatricality”, but also as “sublimation” of themes. That’s a key difference between poetry – as genre – and “prose”. The latter “tells stories” or “explains literally”, whereas poetry sublimates earthly matters into philosophical, even spiritual, multi-interpretable realms. It does this – crucially – through meter, rhythm, and intonation (and rhyme). Also emphasizing specific words, slowly. <p>
Regarding these techniques, indeed Dub Poetry is more “poetry” than toasting, the latter being more “flowing”, i.e. direct and rhythmically adapted to the music. More flowing, like “stories”. <p>
<b>OKU ONUORA</b><p>
Jamaican Oku Onuora, who lived an eventful life, including prison time, was one of the first Dub Poets in Jamaica, in the 1970s. His 1979 “Reflections In Red” single became known as the first Dub Poetry song, pioneering the genre in a sense. <p>
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Oku Onuora became thus known as “father” of Dub Poetry. He was followed by people like Mbala, Jean Binta Breeze (the first woman, they say), Mutabaruka, Linton Kwesi Johnson, Michael Smith, soon after following in by the early 1980s, and further shaping, the tradition. It is kept alive by later, next-generation self-described Dub Poets like Ras Takura. <p>
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Oku Onuora’s vocal style on Reflections In Red included emphasis and slower pronunciation of significant words, and intonation speed changes. Such techniques are found not so much in Toasting or current dancehall Chatting, which is after all more bound to the musical rhythm, the steady “flow”. Onuora’s singing style certainly seemed to have influenced later Dub poets. The fact that Jamaican patois was used as language remained also significant to emphasize. <p>
Such “flowing”, Toasting-like aspects from other Reggae/Dancehall are of course not absent in Dub Poetry vocals. Rather, they interrelate with these more “poetic” intonations and slowed down – often Patois - emphasis on words/terms. <p>
<b>PROTEST</b><p>
Important is also to emphasize that "social protest" is the essence of Dub Poetry, as the 1979 Reflections In Red song by Oku Onuora, originating the genre, illustrates. Dub Poetry deals almost by definition with social commentary. More personal "love" or "romantic" themes are not absent - LKJ's Elaine, for instance -, but are the exception rather than the rule. Usually, there is a layer of social comment, making the message important, and thus (vocal) emphasis on certain terms and their connotations. <p>
This of course has precedents in other "socially engaged" poetry, also among Black poets in the US, such as notably the Last Poets (started in 1968, during the civil rights movement), Gil Scott-Heron (of part-Jamaican descent) and others. These must have influenced Dub Poetry in Jamaica, as it would later conscious hip-hop.<p>Some "classic" works from these, include the Last Poets' Blessed Are Those Who Struggle (1977), and even earlier: Gil Scott-Heron's The Revolution Will Not Be Televized (1971). Mutabaruka calls the latter, Scott-Heron's "signature poem", like his own Dis Poem. He admits being influenced by it.<p>
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Oku Onuora, born Orlando Wong (he is of part-Chinese descent), the "father of dub poetry", began writing poetry in 1971 (deemed already subversive by prison authorities), so a direct relation with the Last Poets and him, seems not clear, though they stand in the same tradition of Black Power poetry. A tradition that goes back to Jamaican Marcus Garvey, who wrote quite some poetry too, using thus rhythm and meter, analogues, metaphor, layers, and rhyme, more than in his "prose", for a similar message of Black upliftment, often with a psychological element too.<p>
There are thus multiple sources, feeding into what would be Dub Poetry, as it got mixed with Reggae music. <p>
The point of view of dub poetry, when discussing social ills, is thus from the downtrodden, and against oppression and discrimination. It has a direct relation to the Black Power and Garvey-ite movement, of which the Rastafari movement after all is a part. <p>
<b>DUB</b><p>
For a time, I found the term “Dub Poetry” somewhat puzzling. Apparently, early Dub Poet Oku Onuora coined this term as such. It was at first not entirely clear to me if it was vocalizing on existing Dub Reggae songs: say King Tubby-like Dub versions of Reggae songs, with echo, reverb and other added effects. Dub is also an interesting art form, combining thus with the art of Poetry sung/chatted in a musical way. Something like that. <p>
Turns out that the term Dub Poetry is even more interesting in significance, in that the relationship between the music and the vocals is in the case of Dub Poetry is more communicative and in that sense “equal”, with the Dub Poet in part “commanding” the music to fit the poet/lyrical flow. This is much less the case with modern Dancehall or New Roots on set Riddims. Good, groovy Riddims mostly, with in the case of Jamaican riddims also exhibiting quality musicianship, but set, and hardly adaptable by vocalists on them.. <p>
This means different vocalists on the same Riddim by necessity adapt to fit the flow, drum, and chord structure of the riddim. Every artist still has its own original voice and style of singing/toasting, of course, but within a framework. Dub Poetry is in that sense freer and more experimental. Yet, not more “improvising”, as Dub Poets tend to be written on forehand. Many Toasting New Roots songs of course also, but in some Dancehalls, with some Sound Systems, improvising on the spot on a certain Riddim played, is common, less dependent on a “written text” than Dub Poetry. <p>
UK-based dub poet Linton Kwesi Johnson worked together with also UK-based Dennis Bovell for making Riddims with each song, whereas a Dub Poet like Mutabaruka worked together with veteran Jamaican musicians like Chinna Smith to make appropriate riddims with his Dub Poetry songs. <p>
Bovell seemed to use and favour more Dub effects (echo, reverb, a.o.). <p>
<b>MESSAGE </b><p>
When I tried to find out more about Dub Poetry in my teenage years, liking some songs of Linton Kwesi Johnson, I was partly misinformed by a Reggae author in the Netherlands, and another English one. In a “pop encyclopedia” Linton Kwesi Johnson was described as “anti-Rasta”, preferring nonspiritual social comment. Later statements by Kwesi Johnson himself contradicted this. He said he maybe was not really Rasta, but respected the Rastafari movement and its value for Blacks and Black power. Being a non-Rasta is something else than being “anti-Rasta”, this particular author (Dutch or English) did not seem to understand. <p>
In his lyrics, Johnson chose, though, indeed a broader, social comment approach, with a Black power influence. <p>
Who was more “really” Rasta, was the mentioned dub poetry pioneer Oku Onuora, as well as Mutabaruka, Jean Binta Breeze, Benjamin Zephaniah and later dub poets. Dub Poetry’s connection with the Rastafari movement seems therefore firm, but in a free way. <p>
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<b>MUTABARUKA</b><p>
Mutabaruka, who is also a social commentator with his much-listened radio broadcasts from Jamaica (Stepping Razor), identifies as a Rasta, but remains a free thinker, going against what he sees as common misconceptions or orthodoxies within Rastafari. He criticizes for example the connection of Rastafari to Christianity and Christ, preferring a focus of original African culture, and wisdom derived from natural living, instead of written dogmatic texts. The latter being especially problematic, due to the misuse of Christianity and the Bible by the European powers for their colonialism and slavery. <p>
Mutabaruka foregrounds sub-Saharan African culture, so he neither got enamored with Islam instead of Christianity, as the Nation of Islam adherents among some Blacks in the US. He deplored that in some parts of Black Africa, Arab names replaced original African (e.g. Mande/Mandinga) names of individuals: so Mohammed, Hassan, or Abdul, - or adapted, such as Alieu (Ali) - instead of Mory or Sékou, for instance. <p>
The kind of free thinking that can be expressed well through a medium like Dub Poetry – with some vocal “freedom” to emphasize slowly as said - , thereby exploring certain specific themes or "concepts" more analytically and poetically, so to speak. <p>Mutabaruka indeed uses the Dub Poetry genre well for this, including also his comments on social and political affairs, on a variety of his songs. On songs like Whiteman Country, Great Kings of Africa, Every Time I Hear the Sound, De System, or Junk Food, Mutabaruka uses the “slow emphasis” vocally, as well as repetition, and declamatory intonation, fit on riddims, or elsewhere foregrounding poetic declamation even with more experimental Afro-folk music (song Dance) or rock/reggae (Famine Injection), a bit outside the Reggae musical frame. <p>
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In LKJ’s, Mutabaruka’s, or other Dub Poets works (like of Benjamin Zephaniah) “abstract” or “surreal” imagery is hardly to be found, though there is symbolism. Dub poetics deal with “reality”, giving voice to the downtrodden, mostly from a Rasta perspective. This through description and protest, but also often “sketches” from life, given symbolical function. <p>
<b>MAGIC AND SURREAL</b><p>
Rhythm and meter is however certainly there in Dub Poetry, used for intonation, and emphasizing words. “Sublimation” of literal meaning, as a function of poetry, but kept in the case of most Dub Poetry quite concrete and about real life, except with certain love songs that also exist in Dub poetry. <p>
The only artist in Jamaican culture representing, perhaps, a surrealist or abstract “poetry” school was Lee “Scratch” Perry. Here and there, in Perry’s body of work one finds Dub Poet-like songs, with him talking, but mostly Perry wanted to sing his songs. This despite initial negative doubts about Perry’s singing ability of producer Coxsone Dodd, at Studio One. <p>
Later, artists like Eek-A-Mouse, Elephant Man, or Ward 21 brought some “surreal” absurdity – to degrees – to Reggae lyrics, that however mostly remained prosaic and slightly poetic. <p>
<b>PERFORMANCE POETRY</b><p>
Dub Poetry is categorized by some also as “performance poetry”, which is a bit simplistic. At the very least it points at the tight connection with the music, and some “theatricality” as I called it, but they’re still written poems, mixed with music for a specific art work, after all recorded. <p>
In reality, I think other Reggae (Roots, vocals, toasting, even Dancehall) is more “performance poetry”, especially since there are very much good, “deeper” lyrics about different aspects of life: far beyond simply put personal grievances: especially in Rastafari-influenced Reggae, there are spiritual truths shared, and social or political comment tends to be broad, dealing with the “system” and humanity as a whole. It is prosaic, for sure, but with enough poetic elements. <p>
<b>POETICS</b><p>
Dub Poetry now, I think emphasizes “poetic” aspects more: word play and emphasis, intonation, layered and (much less) indirect meanings. There are certainly some poetic, deeper “layers” in Dub Poetry lyrics, but “indirect meanings” are not the forte of Jamaican lyrics, arguably. In fact, “indirect messaging” is only common in parts of the world, in some, usually hierarchic, class-based cultures: it is not a universal human trait, as cultural anthropologists concluded. <p>
Northern Europe and the Anglo-Saxon world are most indirect, followed by some stricter Islamic and Hindu cultures, whereas cultural regions like Latin America, most of less-industrialized Southern and Eastern Europe (rural parts more), common folk in East Asia, and sub-Saharan Africa, have a place for “magic”, but are overall straight-forward, perhaps for not having to defend a privileged position of dubious origins: the curse of Anglo-Saxon, and wider “White/Euro” global dominance.. <p>
Some of this “subtle” Anglo-Saxon influence reached Jamaica, as an English-speaking former British colony, but mostly the “poetics” in Dub Poetry center – in my experience listening to it – more on “symbolic” and playful – sometimes metaphoric - descriptions and vivid, fine – but realistic! - imagery, aided by rhythm and musicality (sometimes experimental/dub-wise sonically), and emphasize messages, rather than vagueness or indirectness. <p>
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<b>TO CONCLUDE</b><p>
All this combined, is what make Dub Poetry unique as an art form: within Reggae and Jamaican music, and within the world. <p>
The difference with Toasting (U Roy, I Roy, Big Youth a.o.), message "chanters" like Prince Fari, or even current New Roots chatting by people like Capleton, Sizzla, or Junior Kelly is not always clear-cut – especially with “free” and “varying” vocals - , but cannot be otherwise, since they are fed by the same musical tradition of rhythmic speech, with African origins. They probably also influenced each other, resulting in a different way to express a social, sometimes personal, message, whether poetic or prosaic. Whether bound to a riddim/beat, or not. <p>
You almost could conclude that what King Tubby is to Dub (the originator), Oku Onuora with the first ground-breaking Dub Poetry song Reflections In Red is to Dub Poetry, also as originator. Onuora even created an own vocal style of “slow emphasis” and heavy declamation, that more or less influenced later Dub Poets. These later Dub Poets further shaped the genre with own peculiarities. <p>
In another, cultural sense, it has its roots in Jamaican folk speech, and in rhythmic vocal styles, going back to folk styles like Mento, and before. Even further back: to the African "griot" or "jeli" tradition of musical story tellers travelling around and through villages and communities, discussing current affairs and issues, through poems or stories on music. <p>
Lyrically, definitely, Dub Poetry can be seen as part of the Black Power movement.
<p>
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-13031649737359588112023-03-03T20:08:00.007-08:002023-03-04T08:14:51.962-08:00ClaveMany people – even in music – know only “more or less” what a “clave” actually is. Of course, some are more knowledgeable regarding this, but still: “the clave” needs perhaps some elaboration or explanation. I guess some specialized percussionists and drummers know how to define the “clave”. <p>
In essence, clave can be defined both as a “rhythmic pattern” and as an instrument, its name derived from the Spanish for “key” (in music) or “clef”, and is as term often related to Cuban music. <p>
The confusing thing is maybe that in present, modern-day Spanish the word for “key” is “Llave” (so starting with double L), derived from original Latin for key Clavis. The Italian and Catalan words for “key” still have this original latin “k” sound: Chiave in Italian and Clau in Catalan. <p>
Either way, it is meant as “entry” into a musical structure, in this case rhythmically, as opposed to notes and chords for the melodic and harmonic parts. <p>
<b>CUBA</b><p>
In several descriptions I found online, and also in “offline” scholarly works (like “books”: remember those?) the connection with Cuba recurs. <p>
More specifically – and crucially – with Afro-Cuban culture. It is actually a “key” (pun intended) to African retentions in Afro-Cuban music. The later well-known Cuban genres Rumba and Son (feeding into even better known Salsa) have their own “claves”: both the Rumba and Son clave are known for a 3-2 (or 2-3) pattern, divided in 2 parts (measures): with two beats on one side and three on the other half. <p>
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<b>AFRICA</b><p>
Musicologists – with some good arguments, I think – relate this to a simplification of bell patterns so common in traditional West African music: also those parts where from many enslaved Africans ended up in Cuba, and elsewhere in the West: southern Nigeria (incl. Yorubaland), and Congo. <p>
Bell patterns are varied and common throughout most of sub-Saharan Africa, though. They are also varied from culture to culture and ethnic group to ethnic group within Africa, with sometimes a much higher degree of complexity than the mentioned simplified 2-3 clave. I tried to study and play some (from Fon/Ewe culture) for instance, and it took certainly some time: I found that a nice challenge, though. <p>
These more complicated bell patterns, of course, have a relation to the music they are supposed to lead or fit into in sub-Saharan African music: more complex polyrhythmic music, with several rhythmic patterns played at the same time, usually on different types of drums. Such bell patterns are in that sense the “key” (clave) - or “glue” - to connect all rhythmic patterns and instruments.
Somehow related, that is the reason why e.g. in Yoruba culture the metal “bell” is music is metaphorically described as “the head”, as opposed to the “corporal”, the body the various drums then represent, after all made of animal skin. Bell or clave as “head”. <p>
<b>CARIBBEAN</b><p>
Some of these original “bell pattern” complexity still survived more fully in the West, however. Notably in Haitian Vodou, or Cuban Santería. On my own instrumental song based on “Vodou” music (somewhat simplified) – fittingly named Apwoksimasyon, Haitian Creole for “approximation” - I play a more complex Yanvalou-based bell pattern. It took some time for me to learn it.. a pleasant time, but still, haha. <p>
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In the secular, “popular” music genres in Cuba – Son, Rumba, Salsa – on the other hand such key rhythmic patterns are a bit simplified. Not necessarily easy for non-Cuban novices to Afro-Cuban music, but definitely learnable. <p>
These Cuban Rumba claves and Son claves got usually played with a wooden instrument, rather than with bells as in Africa. With that we’ve come to the other meaning of “clave”: that of the instrument. <p>
<b>INSTRUMENT</b><p>
A “clave” - or rather plural: “claveS” - as instrument in Cuba, are two wooden sticks: one resting in the palm (the “female”), the other one – the “male” - used to hit it. They were made originally of tropical hardwood (rosewood, ebony, grenadilla), and have a sharp, high-pitched sound. <p>
Some historians state that the wood was also used for shipbuilding, so there might have been difficulty for enslaved Africans to bring the bells from their culture to the West, using these woods instead for that musical function the bells had. Seems plausible, although I imagine “metal” must have also been used by Spanish, Portuguese, and other colonizers (though “metal” came a bit later to Iberia, when compared to other parts of Europe). Perhaps it was less available for the enslaved and their descendants. <p>
These wooden sticks in any case obtained that African “bell” function in Afro-Cuban music forms that would develop: Rumba, Son, etcetera. The original Cuban claves still have the darkish red colour and texture of the ebony wood it is from. <p>
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<b>VARIANT</b><p>
In Cuba itself, other variants of the Claves instrument also developed, such as ones with differing sticks: one bigger (again the “female”) with some holes for resonance, resting in the hand palm, and another smaller “hitting” (“male”) stick. This one (often of rosewood) sounds nice and sharp too, and are usually called “clave africano” or “rumba clave”, as opposed to the “son clave”. <p>
Though mostly made in Cuba, the “africano” in Clave Africano refers to its use in more directly African 6/8 rhythmic patterns. Their colour is often lighter (yellowish, light-red). It has a somewhat “deeper” and “rounder” sound than the original Claves, perhaps explaining its “raison d’etre” in Cuban music genres, like Rumba. <p>
The smaller, darkish brown Claves still are more common, though. These even made their way into Western pop music (e.g. the Beatles’ And I Love Her – though it is no Cuban pattern played with them). <p>
While the rhythmic guideline – or key – the clave carries, “glues” the instruments together, in my experience with live performances I saw in Cuba, or of Cuban music elsewhere, the clave sticks are not always played throughout the whole song, but at the beginning or at some other - ha! – “key” moments in the song. Fading in and out, so to speak. <p>
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<b>FERNANDO ORTIZ</b><p>
Cuban anthropologist scholar Fernando Ortiz (1881-1969) wrote several then in a sense groundbreaking works on Afro-Cuban musical instruments, including also the Clave(s). <p>
He pays much attention to its origins, and emphasizes its relative uniqueness for Cuba. Ortiz still points at similar “sticks”-like instruments in Africa, as well in Southern Spain, another region musically influential in Cuba (especially in the early colonial period), notably the castanets. <p>
He even goes as far as to describe comparable instruments far away as Oceania and Eastern Asia. Eventually, Ortiz concludes that it eventually is a specific Cuban invention, based on older influences (Africa, Spain), but just as much on practical considerations, and local developments. <p>
He also recognizes its rhythmic function derived from African bells, but also points out that it translated as well to more mixed or “white” Cuban cultures; the more rustic, less polyrhythmic folk music of descendants of Spaniards and Canarians (with still some African influences), often guitar-based. The clave played there tends to be more slowly and rustic, different from the “wild” polyrhythmic function it has in Afro-Cuban genres like Rumba, more like the bells in sub-Saharan Africa. These now, ironically, need that clave less, as drums and other instruments already know how to combine and merge. <p>
The claves seem – as the Samba-like patterns but on guitar in Bossa Nova – a reference, but watered-down, to (also) African rhythms. Something like a “clave” (as rhythmic 2-3 pattern) can for that reason also be found in Brazilian music, like Bossa Nova. <p>
The wooden instrument itself indeed maintains its cultural connection to Cuba, more than other places. Making its high, dry sound – especially of the son claves of two similar red-brown sticks – represent a Cuban or Salsa “feel”, also when – as said - slowing down to bolero or ballad-like songs. <p>
Spanish poet Federico García Lorca described the sound poetically as “wooden drops”. <p>
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<b>CULTURE</b><p>
The “clave” is also used as a term for a rhythmic concept, in particular to describe sub-Saharan African polyrhythmic music. Even more particularly to the part author Ned Sublette calls “forest Africa” (South Nigeria, Cameroun, Congo), to distinguish it from “griot” Africa (Senegambia, Guinea), with more Islamic influences and string instruments, and the roots of the Blues. <p>
Ned Sublette, and also a scholar like Robert Farris-Thompson – kind of spread this musicologist term and meaning of “clave Africa”. <p>
The Spanish colonizers – at least in the early stages – had a policy to avoid importing “Islamicized” slaves (literally: “those raised with Moors”), instead getting them from forest Africa, more to the South. In the case of Cuba, relatively many from Yorubaland, the Calabar area (Nigeria/Cameroun), and Congo (present-day DR Congo) These brought the polyrhythmic music – with the clave principle – to Cuba. <p>
English, French, and US colonizers and slave traders had not that policy, and instead made cynically use of the open market the Senegambia and Guinea represented for them as slave source. These enslaved Africans brought the “swing” and melisma musical styles to the US, feeding into Jazz and Blues. Mono-rhythmic – with “swinging” variation around it – and thus with no real use of the “clave” rhythmical “connecting” key. <p>
<b>CREOLIZATION</b><p>
So, while the clave “whitened”, “watered down” a bit in some Cuban genres (not all), or at least “simplified”, it still represents a sub-Saharan African connection – even regarding wooden instruments used also in Africa, besides bells -, perhaps mixing with remnants of the castanets-culture of Spain, and the rhythms of Flamenco (often tapped on guitar case), and stick use of Canarian (Canary Islands) music, as Fernando Ortiz describes. <p>
There were relatively many Canarian immigrants in Cuba, due to their experience with sugar plantations (unlike mainland Spaniards), and the first Spanish colonizers with and after Columbus tended to be relatively often from South West Spain (Andalucia, Extremadura) from where (Huelva, Cádiz) the ships set sail to the Americas, with some Basques and Castilians among them too. <p>
Later there were Chinese contract labourers as migrants into Cuba, fleeing migrants from St Domingue/Haiti, Spanish migrants from other parts (notably Galicia and Asturias), and slave traders and owners from more industrial parts of Spain, like Catalonia (explaining the Catalan “slave” surnames of a part of the Afro-Cubans, losing – as in British and French colonies – their original African family names, replaced by their owners’ European (in Cuba Spanish, Basque, Catalan, and French) surnames. As slavery expanded some Senegambian/Guinea slaves still ended up in Cuba, with slight musical influences (as the Chinese and Haitians also had). <p>
This was in the later 19th c., but Cuban music by then already had its mixed “clave” base. <p>
The instrument itself – as related to shipbuilding – is of local, colonial origin. The rhythmic key it represents partly, but rooted in Africa, as a process of what Caribbean scholars call “creolization” in the Caribbean: local developments based on African (and other Roots). <p>
<b>CUBANNESS</b><p>
All this, Ortiz argues, added to the typical Cubanness – of the instrument -, Cuba, with its relatively large percentage of Whites, and racial mixture, some Spanish-African cultural mixtures, with many mulattoes, besides a Black population. He stresses, relatedly, wooden “claves” as such could not be found on other Caribbean islands, until recently. <p>
Moreover, the clave could thrive – both as rhythmic concept and as instrument - within the rich and varied musical culture of Cuba, continuing with its “spin-off” genre Salsa (mostly Son-Cuban-based). This increased its internationalization. In modern US-based Salsa - however - the Clave as instrument tends to be replaced by other "woodblock"-like instruments or by the jeniger plastic based "jamblock", often part of percussion sets. <p>
An interesting history, anyway; a very Caribbean history of survival and creativity. <p>
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Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-69160841903061379082023-02-03T21:06:00.013-08:002023-02-04T08:20:01.347-08:00Dennis and BobDennis Brown became known as the Crown Prince of Reggae. This title was given to him by someone known then as the King of Reggae: Bob Marley, who called Dennis his favourite Reggae artist.. <p>
Perhaps such laudatory titles, while creative and playful, should not be taken as absolute truths: especially in a wide and varied music scene as that of Reggae and Jamaican music, with many good singers, artists, and songwriters. Many of whom only did not reach the level of international fame of Bob Marley, or even less than Dennis Brown, who hardly reached the mainstream. <p>
It is interesting, though, to compare these two artists with honorary titles musically. I – and other Reggae fans – did that already. <p>
There is some truth to the Spanish saying "las comparaciones son odiosas" (all comparisons are hateful), but comparing can still be useful to describe and analyze cultural developments. <p>
<b>VOICE</b><p>
My opinion has always been that purely focusing on “voice” and “singing” Dennis Brown is better than Bob Marley, though this may come close to sacrilege for some. A (Reggae) musician friend of mine, here in Amsterdam, placed a nuance.. "Bob could sing very well, it’s maybe the “timbre” of Dennis Brown’s voice which is prettier or more soulful". In the whole, this friend (a Reggae bass player) further argued: "the lyrics, melodic flexibility, and songwriting, Bob Marley was a “fuller” artist than Dennis Brown". <p>
<b>LYRICS</b><p>
Regarding Bob’s lyrics I imagined he had a point, though I had some doubts. We must beware of commercial aspects: you just get to hear Marley’s songs much more, so also the lyrics. That being said, I must admit – and said it before, also on this blog – that Bob’s lyrics were special and wise. Much wisdom about humanity, poverty, the Black struggle, and, well, life. This was formulated, moreover, – as Lee Perry said – in accessible, understandable words for many people. That’s a skill Bob Marley had, and made him appeal to many people, especially the poorer people of the world, even outside of Jamaica or the Reggae scene as such. <p>
<b>SINGING</b><p>
Still, I am willing to argue that Dennis Brown’s appeal was on the other hand not just his soulful voice or timbre. Indeed his singing had even more “reach” (technically/musically) than Bob Marley’s. This reach is not just relating to chord progressions or other such musical issues, but also regarding a certain recognizable, “original” style of singing. <p>
This Dennis Brown singing style has, after all, inspired other singers in Jamaica too, even by their own admittance. Echoes of Dennis’ soulful, powerful “deep tenor” singing can therefore be found in later Jamaican Reggae singers like Frankie Paul, Luciano, and Bushman, and more (e.g. Natty King), relatively lesser known ones. That’s influence. <p>
That voice is a good way to bring lyrics across, but can also “distract” from text, from some perspective. Or it adds another layer, is another way to look at it. <p>
<b>LYRICS</b><p>
Another interesting question is whether the lyrics and songwriting of Dennis Brown really stayed that much behind those of Bob Marley’s. I heard and read several people say that, but even that is not so clear to me. The “distracting” voice of Dennis may influenced that thought, but is it true? <p>
In other words: did Dennis have lyrics comparable to Bob’s? <p>
An interesting comparison, due to their both being Jamaican Reggae artists with a Rastafari adherence, conscious lyrics and love lyrics, and a short generation apart mostly in the Roots era (Dennis lived on partly through the early Dancehall era), but different degrees of international fame. <p>
<b>MISTRUST</b><p>
There is mistrust in Jamaica about Bob Marley’s fame being “helped” by the fact that he was half-White, and that musical qualities thus became secondary to racial preferences in the Western world. <p>
Though I would not discard this – as is too often done nowadays – as a “conspiracy theory”, as I think race might have played a role. I also think, however, that it is not the only reason of Bob’ s relative fame, when compared to people like Dennis Brown, Gregory Isaacs, Bob Andy, Peter Tosh, etcetera. <p>
Marley certainly had some extraordinary talents, in particular the combination of them (catchy melodies, memorable lyrics, charisma, and accessibility). Bob maintained his Rastafari and pro-Black stance, confirming his sincerity, even with messages running counter to the dominant Western economic system. Bob himself kept his integrity, in other words, and maybe he could because of his talent and charisma. <p>
<b>MUSICALLY</b><p>
Besides lyrically, also musically this integrity was kept, but to a lesser degree. The adaptations of Bob Marley's music in the mix (by executive producer Chris Blackwell, mainly) toward Rock and pop were mostly at the cost of rhythm and groove. I as a percussionist notice that even more, probably. Elsewhere on this blog I spoke in <a href="https://michelconci.blogspot.com/2017/04/subtle-or-subdued-percussion-in-bob.html">a post/essay of April, 2017</a> - (how time flies..) - of this as “subdued percussion”, i.e. percussion and drums too soft in the mix. For my taste.. <p>
This somewhat more “Western” Rock sound (though limited) is not irrelevant for the theme of this post. It explained Bob’s music wider appeal, also outside the Reggae scenes, and among different races. <p>
The Joe Gibbs, Niney, or even the earlier Studio One home-made Jamaican productions of Dennis Brown seemed less “translatable”. Especially the more “Rootsy” ones. Or were deemed as such: it often did not even reach enough of the public in the first place, due to this "commercial" (or ideological?) estimation. <p>
Maybe Dennis Brown’s songs were too Black and Jamaican, for it to have the same international appeal as Bob’s? Or is that just an illusion in some minds, wishful thinking, even? <p>
<b>LYRICS</b><p>
First the lyrics. I know many of Dennis Brown’s song and I remember several memorable lyrics, phrases from his songs. Singing them. Expressing Rastafari faith, often in Biblical terms, popular sayings. Kind of repetitive, but functional. Rebellious lyrics, against the system, are there too. They are either way more “messages” than stories, and that’s a difference with Bob, I think. Bob tells more original stories in his lyrics, and depicts visual imagery in well-chosen words. <p>
Dennis Brown certainly has intelligent and commenting lyrics, but focusing on mental, or even metaphorical/abstract, messages, Rasta vocabulary (“Rasta children, I and I come from Zion"), or Bible scenes. It is more introverted than Bob’s lyrics, really. Bob looked and commented at the wider world, and many people world wide understood. Also a difference between Dennis and someone like Peter Tosh, who had a more “rebellious”, directly socially commenting image. More political, while Dennis was overall more “spiritual”. <p>
Otherwise put, Bob’s lyrics were more realistic, Dennis’s more symbolic and conceptual. Bob’s more prosaic, epic, and Dennis’s more poetic. <p>
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That does not mean that Dennis Brown’s lyrics do not have the same wisdom as in Bob’s lyrics, with similar “emotional truths”, especially when touching human relations. <p>
A good example is the song Let Love In (Your Heart). An essential truth, and well and soulfully sung, kind of meandering (a difference with straighter-singing Bob). <p>
Also songs like Looking and Watching, Revolution, Tribulation, The Half, Concentration, or Rasta Children, contain deeper human wisdoms, way beyond formulaic statements of faith. <p>
The lyrically claustrophobic Three Meals A Day about prison life is minimal, but nonetheless poetic. And again inward-looking: Bob was on the other hand more often outward-looking.. <p>
<b>LOVE SONGS</b><p>
Dennis had more love songs than Bob Marley. Besides a Roots icon, Dennis also became somehow known as a Lovers Rock man, alongside the Cool Ruler. Some of his relatively bigger hits were love songs. <p>
His handsome, joyous – pleasantly seductive - smile when dancing (inherited by his daughter Marla), made him have a sex-appeal with women. <p>
Yet, again: the love song lyrics were also more inward-looking than those of others. Dennis’s relatively biggest hit was Money In The Pocket (high in the UK chart in the 1970s) even spoke of inner, mental processes, rather than the outside world. <p>
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<p>
If there is one truth about the claims by some that Dennis Brown had less appealing lyrics than Bob, it is that Bob’s extrovert “outward” lyrics appeal more to people than introvert “inner monologues” or mental processes with which Dennis often surrounded his (social) messages. <p>
Maybe that’s all too human, even if superficial. Some might prefer those “inward”-looking lyrics, as some big commercial hit songs at times show. Different tastes, majorities and minorities, etcetera. <p>
<b>SONGWRITING</b><p>
Lee “Scratch” Perry also said about Bob Marley: “he had the best melodies”. He had good melodies and catchy vocal lines, but “the best” is too absolute. Perry worked a lot with Bob, but several other Reggae artists had a talent for catchy melodies in song, that stay with you. Too many to mention: Bob Andy, Alton Ellis, Gregory Isaacs, Mighty Diamonds, Burning Spear, Culture, Sugar Minott, Chronixx, Tarrus Riley, Beres Hammond, and, yes, also Dennis Brown. <p>
Dennis’s songs like Prophet Rides Again, No More Will I Roam, I Don’t Want To Be A General, If This World Were Mine, Should I, The Promised Land, from early Studio One days: I Have Got To Go, are but examples of memorable songs owing that in part to the strong melodies. Sung well, that also helps. <p>
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I am even willing to argue that, overall, Dennis Brown had more immediately catchy melodies in his songs than Bob Marley. More memorable at least, partly due to a fact that I mentioned before: the more repetitive nature of Dennis Brown’s lyrics and songs. This combined with “filler” often wordless “wailing” soul cries (“Oh yeah”, Yea-ah”, “Oh now”) making the lyrics with words – and the chorus lines! - stick out more.. The function of variation. <p>
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Bob Marley tended to stick more to the “conventional” Verse-Bridge-Chorus structure of songs, thus more multifaceted and ordered, but recognizable. Dennis Brown in some songs too, but just as often mixed this with “chanting” a main and secondary melody/vocal line, playing with them on the Riddim/music. Not unlike Burning Spear, or another Brown: Barry Brown. <p>
Dennis could pull that off with his talent and soulful voice, but it misses some structure that many are used to in pop songs. Bob had that more (and in a good way). Another explanation for the difference in international fame or (relative) mainstream appeal. <p>
Bob Marley said himself that he wanted to sound like the then Reggae singer Little Roy (of the 1969 hit song Bongo Nyah fame), while Dennis Brown, said his singing style was influenced by earlier Reggae singer Delroy Wilson. <p>
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Interestingly, also the relative songwriting styles seemed inspiring: Little Roy more of the Verse-Chorus school, and Delroy Wilson (like Dennis) more of the free soulful singing school. <p>
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<b>CONCLUSION</b><p>
In conclusion, about the reasons for the difference in mainstream popularity between Bob and Dennis: are they commercial? Yes. Racial? Most probably too. <p>
If there are any sensible, nonbiased reasons for the difference of popularity/commercial success, they are cultural. Dennis stuck more to Jamaican cultural interpretations of Reggae, some of which “translated” not so well to non-Jamaican audiences as did Bob’s Reggae, maybe stimulated by the deal with Chris Blackwell and Island. The Joe Gibbs “sound”, and his even “Rootsier” work with Niney The Observer knew few adaptations to European tastes. Luckily, in my opinion. It kept the groove.<p>
That this authentic culture is not always appreciated outside of it, is a lamentable fact in this world, though it is also that there are true fans of authentic cultures other than their own. <p>
Reggae’s international spread proved that, and Dennis Brown is known and respected among Reggae fans all over the world: Black, white, Asian, or otherwise. Several of his songs were not just hits in Jamaica, but also – among reggae fans, at Reggae parties - “inna di dance”, at sound systems, or “inna di club”, throughout Europe, North America, Japan, Africa, and elsewhere. Even well into the Dancehall era. <p>
The translatability is therefore difficult, but not impossible.
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-23180682867448233922023-01-01T17:55:00.003-08:002023-01-01T18:40:27.020-08:00Pan FlutesSome Dutch commentators in newspapers described certain recurring street musicians in Amsterdam as “panfluit-indianen”, to be translated as: pan flute Indians. They referred to South American musicians from the Andes region (Peru, Bolivia, or Ecuador), travelling and playing their pan flute in touristy central Amsterdam streets - as in other cities of Europe -, usually solo or in small groups, combined with singing or other instruments, or even recorded tape music, giving the folk music a pop edge, haha. <p>
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The term “pan flute Indians” is in itself condescending, as all dehumanizing remarks are. It can even be considered racist, due to both the “othering” and dehumanization it implies. <p>
While factual, the at the same time condescending qualification, also denies that playing the pan flute – also known as panpipes - is not at all easy. It is a developed skill, connected moreover to a rich musical legacy. <p>
In the case of Peruvian musicians, it is of course the cultural legacy of the Andes region, the highland Amerindians, representing an intriguing world and culture, albeit perhaps clouded by clichés put in our head (lama’s, woolen hats and ponchos). The pan flute combining with the shamanic drum, and guitars, in Andean countries makes an unique, magic feel. Since I am a percussionist, the role of the drum naturally interests me.<p>
Pan flutes are quite known globally as being an instrument in that part of South America, but it has a history elsewhere in the world too. Maybe less known among the common populace. This post is about that. <p>
Historical and archaeological studies found that pan flutes were throughout history known all over the world, in many different cultures. On all continents. <p>
The intriguing thing is – I find – that as main musical instrument it only remained important in a few cultures: the said Andes region, and – for some reason – Romania, in Eastern Europe. Why did it “survive” in particularly those two regions? Perhaps inexplicable, yet an interesting mystery.<p>
Pan flutes are further known – still today – also in a few other places, such as (other) parts of Europe and the Americas, and in Africa and Asia. Interestingly, though, Peru and Romania remain the two countries most associated with the pan flute.<p>
<b>ANDES</b><p>
In the case of Andean Peru and surroundings, wind instruments predate European arrival, so also the pan flute go back to the Amerindian roots: with the (Spanish) Europeans came later the string instruments, guitar, and guitar-like. Maybe a but comparable to how hand drums might represent the African roots within Black music with also modern instruments. <p>
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Elsewhere in the Americas, “scraper” like instruments represent an Amerindian remnant, though these scrapers were also known in African music. In the more maintained and purer Amerindian cultures in the Andean region, the pan flute is definitely a direct connection to the “pre-contact” indigenous culture, as are other less-known instruments used there traditionally, such as shamanic drums. <p>
That means music’s original connection to the natural surroundings, and in that sense “pure” or “pristine”, but also more spiritual. <p>
<b>ROMANIA</b><p>
Romania as “pan flute island” is more enigmatic. The pan flute’s first use there is, anyway, hidden in the mist of times, though according to some sources not that far back, known since the 17th c. (and perhaps before). <p>
An explanation – though hard to prove – might lie in the relatively large Gypsy, or more correct ethnically Roma(ni) – population Romania has. In fact, percentage-wise, Romania is one of the countries in Europe with relatively the largest Gypsy/Roma population, along with Bulgaria. <p>
In Western Europe, only Spain is known for having a substantial Gypsy/Roma population. In Eastern Europe in a few more countries, with own musical traditions. The Flamenco music of South Spain received some Gypsy influences, but is South Spanish music in essence. <p>
Gypsy music/Roma music in Romania is therefore different, more adapted to the region there, with East European/Klezmer-like traits. As a nomadic people, Roma tended to take musical elements from parts they traveled through, rather than hold on strictly to own traditions, though these (North Indian elements) persist. <p>
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Historically known in Ancient Greece too, the pan flute is named after a Greek God Pan, and it might just be that exactly the “nomadic” lives Roma chose to live, made them safeguard ancient musical traditions lost in more settled, modernized communities in the surroundings. <p>
Local, Jewish, Romanian, but also Turkish influences are notable among the Lautari musicians, as the Roma music class is known in Romania. Among the Lautari (named after a lute) various instruments play a role, but also a pan flute. Sources say it was brought by the Turks (also because of etymology of words for it: muscal and nai). <p>
The pan flute is now used seldom among these lautari, though they were known as their “primary” instrument. Besides in Romania, Bulgaria and elsewhere, also in Turkey (and indeed Spain) Roma were known as relatively often musicians. <p>
As with the Spanish guitar of local, South Spanish origin (with Persian/Moorish antecedents), the Roma in Eastern Europe, Greece, and Turkey used local instruments from there, including thus probably the pan flute, and later more violins, accordions, as the clichés on Romanian Roma music are known. <p>
These Roma/Gypsy Lautari musicians in Romania used the pan flute originally, but in time less. Its tradition however survived in Romanian folk music. <p>
<b>ORIGINS</b><p>
There is even a source that states that the Romanian-area pan flute influenced its used in the Andes region of Peru, since around the 17th c.. This seems nonsense to me, and thus a dubious source. <p>
Maybe driven by too much pride or cultural nationalism, historical sources showed that pan flutes have existed worldwide in various cultures, and it is also common sense. It’s a very basic instrument that could arise everywhere, requiring after all blowing at the edges of different-sized tubes. <p>Even the presence of Bamboo - while useful - seems not to predispose Eastern Asia, as woods have also been used for them.
I learned that this blowing is not that simple, and does at first seem not natural – i.e. requiring effort, as with blowing a trumpet – but it is a skill that in time can be acquired. <p>
A further argument that the pan flute is not of Romanian origin, but known originally world wide, is that they are historically also known in (central) Africa, and centuries back. In the Bantu regions, far from regions of Turkish or Arab influences, and before dominant European colonial influences, such as in Congo, Kenya, South Sudan, and Mozambique, they have a historical presence. <p>
The Luba (DR Congo), Konso (South Sudan/Ethiopia), Shona (Zimbabwe) and Nyungwe (Tete region, Mozambique) peoples, are examples of peoples with an important role for pan flutes in their traditional music. <p>
Today, especially in Mozambique, the “Nyanga” as panflutes are known there, still survive in music. <p>
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Its historical presence in China (later reaching Turkey), still in Vietnam, and also in e.g. Papua New Guinea, further shows that pan flutes ere universally human, and not Romanian or Turkish in origin, and not even of Peruvian origin – even if found there from a long time, way before the Spanish came, but even in pre-Inca times). The sizes and shapes (and number of tubes) may differ per culture, as do the musical structures, but the principles of playing are the same. <p>
Pan flute-like instruments were known all over the world historically, though. Another example is the still present pan flute tradition of the Solomon Islands in Oceania, often combined with interesting bamboo percussion. <p>
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<b>SURVIVAL</b><p>
The most enigmatic about this instrument’s history is not so much that it originated (easy to come up with), but rather where and why it survived in certain regions, and others (even neighbouring ones) not. <p>
Why not among other Amerindians, outside the Andes region? Known in certain parts of Iberia historically too, but especially in Galicia (NW Spain) and bordering North Portugal (less known elsewhere on the peninsula), and in Italy mainly in the (far northern) Brianza region, while it was known in ancient Rome as it was in Greece. Why common in Romanian folk music, but not in bordering regions like the Balkan, Bulgaria, or Ukraine? It is less known there, anyway. <p>
Why still maintained in parts of Mozambique, among the Nyungwe people, but absent or less in other parts of Africa as an instrument? <p>
Above all, this shown an interesting aspect of folk culture. Folk culture is largely a natural development, for sure, but also a conscious choice of original creativity, self-expression, an aim of “distinction”, or to use a modern term: “identity”. <p>
“Originality” is what makes folk culture distinct, to summarize. If all folk culture were the same, there would be no folk culture. Its essence lies after all in its originality and distinctiveness/difference from other (surrounding) cultures. <p>
The life-affirming creativity and originality of folk culture is beautiful.. <p>
Some cultures chose the pan flute for this, but each in their own distinct ways, as the differences in uses – within wider music and dance - between South America, Europe, and Africa show.. <p>
<b>REGGAE</b><p>
Having become more or less a Reggae connoisseur over time (“expert” sounds so lame), I do have an idea about its use in Reggae music, that is: of the pan flute. <p>
Not really, only a few examples of pan flute or very similar sounds, with Burning Spear’s song Free Nelson Mandela as prime example. Adds a nice touch to that song..<p>
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<b>POP MUSIC</b><p>
The pan flute did reach wider Western pop music here and there, however. With a solo in the famous hit California Dreaming, by the Mamas & Papas, in the equally famous Africa by Toto, as well as - more predictably - in covers of the Andean classic El Condor Pasa, such as by Simon & Garfunkel. Then to songs of other rock/pop acts, from Sting and A-Ha to the Spice Girls, and, well, Shakira..
<p>
SEE ALSO:
<a href="http://music.africamuseum.be/instruments/english/congo%20drc/mishiba.html">http://music.africamuseum.be/instruments/english/congo%20drc/mishiba.html</a>
<p>
<a href="https://www.panflutejedi.com/pan-flute-history.html">https://www.panflutejedi.com/pan-flute-history.html</a>
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-59169945283805474762022-12-03T06:33:00.003-08:002022-12-03T09:16:54.369-08:00ObeahThe term “Obeah” can be heard regularly in (older and new) Jamaican Reggae lyrics, often in combination with “man” (“obeah man”), and mostly with a negative connotation. It refers to a kind of magic or sorcery, involving casting spells (“working Obeah”). <p>
This post essentially is about why that is: both the mentioning and the negativity of that mentioning. <p>
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<b>ORIGINS</b><p>
Historical sources on the origin of Obeah (also spelled: Obia(h)) within Jamaica are overall not entirely consistent or uniform, probably due to partly lacking reliable sources. Quite much is known, however. Against all odds, one can say, because in Jamaica’s colonial past, there is an evident bias from the White British ruling class perspective, and from the slave masters. The separate world of enslaved Africans of course preferred an own discourse, but was still influenced and framed by the oppressive colonial context, related to degrees of also mental slavery. <p>
The origins are already controversial in the academic field. An Akan origin (from present-day Ghana, in West Africa) seems most probable, also related to the fact that a large percentage of enslaved Africans in Jamaica were brought from that region (estimated at a bit over 50%). Others, though, found sources – including linguistic ones - suggesting rather a Igbo origin (now SE Nigeria) of Obeah, as Igbo were also among the enslaved in Jamaica (a bit more concentrated in the West of the island), or a Calabar region (Efik) origin, from what is now the coastal border area between Nigeria and Cameroon. <p>
<b>IMAGE</b><p>
Whatever its precise African origins, it developed in Jamaica in a direction that one can term negatively as a “caricature” or more neutrally (if cynically) as a “survival mechanism”. Most sources seem to confirm that Obeah actually before used to have a cosmology with deities, ancestors, and spirits that could be invoked according to certain norms and rules, part of a certain world view. This got reduced, one can say, to a more practical “spirit invocation” or “casting spells” to protect oneself, or poison or harm enemies. This vindictive, selfish image of Obeah, it more or less maintained among the Jamaican populace, up to today. <p>
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This image of Obeah was, by the way, not only maintained by self-interested White planters, fearing overt but also sneaky rebellion by their slaves, associating this subtle rebellion (including e.g. poisoning, or “bad spells”) also with particularly women. The famous female Maroon leader fighting British colonial rulers and masters, Queen Nanny, was also labeled a Obeah practitioner, using it in this case against colonial oppressors. <p>
Not just Whites, but also other Afro-Caribbean faiths and spiritual systems/religion that developed, however, condemned the “trickery” and “withchcraft” of Obeah as “evil” or “devilish” , such as Myal adherents. <p>
<b>MYAL AND NATIVE BAPTISTS</b><p>
Myal, also of African origin (assumed of Congo origin, with Akan elements), developed among Africans in Jamaica, and maintained clear African spiritual retentions (possession, “spirit” invoking), but made a connection to European Christianity, getting mixed with it, especially with nondominant Protestant churches that became popular in Jamaica, notably in what became known as Native Baptists. This Africanizing through Myal (including in interpretations of the holy ghost/spirit and water baptism as “rebirth” in the African tradition ) was frowned upon by White Baptist missionaries, but could not be stopped, giving rise to Native Baptists as Protestant variant among Afro-Jamaicans.. <p>
Yet, within this Afro-Christian Native Baptism (also known as Myalism), there grew also a distancing from other African practices, deemed backward or vile, notably Obeah, from which Myal/Native Baptist adherents distanced themselves, confirming thus its image of an evilous, selfish withchcraft. <p>
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Obeah was not presented as edifying or uplifting, only as doing harm within the community, though it was also known to have “healing” and “medicine” purpose that could be beneficial. <p>
It seems that this negative characterization of Obeah among Jamaican Native Baptists (and similar Afro-Protestant beliefs), continued in the later Rastafari movement, indeed also Christian influenced, even if Afrocentric. In fact, some scholars point at influences from Native Baptism on aspects of the Rastafari movement, that arose in the 1930s in Jamaica, but of course not in a vacuum. Some early converts to Rastafari came from families where Spiritual Baptism was practiced. <p>
<b>WIDER CARIBBEAN</b><p>
The same term Obeah with the same meaning (magic/sorcery/spells for personal, selfish goals) is also known elsewhere in what is known as the British Caribbean, such as in Trinidad, to which certain Calypso songs and lyrics attest, such as by Mighty Sparrow, Chalkdust, and Terri Lyons. <p>
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There are – taken broader – also interesting parallels elsewhere in the African Diaspora, such as on the neighbouring islands of Cuba and Haiti. <p>
Santería is well-known as the Cuban variant of Vodou (very simply put), in this case mostly based on Yoruba (SW Nigeria, Benin) beliefs and spiritual ideas, translated in a Spanish colonial (Catholic) context. Like Vodou in Haiti, Santería is not just a “withchcraft” or magic practice, but includes a complex and ordered, spiritual cosmology with specific deities, spirits, world views, and rituals, involving rules and conditions. This sets it apart from how Obeah is now known: a magic practice or “withchcraft”. <p>
Another, more Congo/Bantu-influenced Afro-Cuban faith in Cuba is known as Palo Mayombe (with variants in the Dominican Republic), which is known for spells (a bit like Obeah is known), but both positive and negative, and also praised for folk medicine and natural healing. Image-wise Palo Mayombe is thus somewhere between developed, sophisticated Santería and selfish practical magic as Obeah is known elsewhere in the Caribbean. <p>
In Haiti, Vodou is likewise a complex, ordered world view and cosmology, with elaborate rituals, thus in contrast to its stereotypical, simplified “Hollywood” image of “casting spells” on enemies, through e.g. pins in dolls/puppets. This superficial, withchcraft image in fact resembles how Obeah is known in Jamaica. <p>
There are differences between Afro-Haitian Vodou and Afro-Cuban Santería, of course, at first in relation to origins in Africa: Vodou has a strong Benin (Fon-Ewe) imprint, whereas Santería a strong Yoruba (SW Nigeria) one (geographically East of Fon-Ewe people). <p>
Other differences relate to the colonial and political context. State communism in Cuba since the early 1960s was officially atheist, but also actively discouraged “religion” in public life, albeit not successfully. Privately it went on, and only later the State became more lenient openly, especially when Cuba needed tourism since the 1990s crisis period. <p>
In Haiti, some dictatorships had semi-totalitarian traits too (under Duvalier for instance), but Vodou remained the main popular religion, partly mixed with popular Catholicism. <p>
<b>PROTESTANTISM OR RASTAFARI?</b> <p>
Jamaica, rather, kept up a Protestant Christian image, to which later half-heartedly - and after repression periods - Rastafari was added. Remnants of traditional African religions (Kumina, Burru, Myal, Obeah) were marginalized, and partly vilified. Kumina, however, maintained a more extensive cosmology (like Santería), only with more Congo roots. <p>
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Even among Afrocentric Jamaicans, such as those in the Rastafari movement, some expressions as Obeah were criticized, while Kumina was more or less respected as interesting connection to the African roots. <p>
While some spiritual and musical aspects from Kumina even influenced Rastafari – “heart beat” drum rhythms, for instance - , on the other hand the “spirit possession”, “ancestor worship” or “trance” aspects from its rituals were eschewed for being “backwardish” or even “devilish”, and at most “translated “ to metaphors. <p>
One explanation for this, besides a Biblical/Christian influence, is the focus on “naturality” and “reality” in the Rastafari worldview. Also, the emphasis on life, and eschewing everything “dead” (including dead bodies or spirits), which in turn can be a Biblical (Levitical/Nazarite) influence. <p>
This type of (social) consciousness and natural livity does not seem to combine well with the “supernatural” or “magic” one can perceive in some traditional African faiths: such as when spirits (e.g. ancestral ones) take possession of a body when someone is in trance. It also seems at odds with the “sorcery” or “witchcraft” of casting spells for which Obeah and Obeah men are known. <p>
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What remains a bit unclear, however, is whether this negative image of Obeah is fully an independent, “own” Afrocentric, Rastafari conclusion, or in fact an indirect result of Western Christian colonialism. White Protestantism fought against such African “magic” ideas from the beginning, and likewise Catholicism (although “looser” Catholics tended to use it to their advance, at times too). In other words: it might be a Biblical and Protestant influence in which Rastafari was by necessity based, as Rastafari poet/thinker Mutabaruka pointed out: Rastafari arose in that (post)colonial Biblical/Protestant context: whether it wanted or not. <p>
In Africa itself, “witchcraft” or “bad”, vindictive magic or spells are sometimes lambasted too, but there the same question applies as in Jamaica: really indigenous or due to Western Christian (colonial) influences? <p>
In the article ‘The first chant: Leonard Howell’s ’The promised key’, with commentary by William David Spencer’, in the volume ‘Chanting Down Babylon: the Rastafari reader (1998, edited by: Nathaniel Samuel Murrell, William David Spencer, and Adrian Anthony McFarlan), this view on Obeah within Rastafari is discussed. <p>
The article is also about early (some say the first) Rasta, Leonard Howell. Howell considered some aspects from African traditional religions useful, also for “healing” purposes, such as from Myal, but was more critical about Obeah sorcery, for having wrong intentions and negative (divisive) effects, even if more or less recognized among Rastas as also part of the African heritage, albeit a troubled (and probably corrupted) part of it. <p>
Later Rastas still associate Obeah with wicked intentions and iniquity, and therefore lambast it. Similar – indeed – to how criminals and conmen are criticized, for dividing and disturbing the community. <p>
This view of Obeah can be seen as a Christian influence, but not entirely. In light of the whole Rastafari worldview and values of positive living, Black/African pride, equality, and naturality – and its community sense – magic spells with bad intentions disturb this community and go against such values, causing divisions and conflicts within the community. <p>
In the article about Leonard Howell mentioned – with quotes by reggae artists like Ziggy Marley or Black Uhuru -, but also in many Reggae lyrics, this is indeed the image of Obeah, even beyond Biblical influences: iniquity, wicked intentions. <p>
<b>CONCLUSION</b><p>
The negative image of Obeah in Jamaica, including among Rastafari, cannot be so easily explained, and has in fact multiple dimensions and origins. An external Protestant/Western influence is there, but relegating it to this is too simplistic. <p>
The latter becomes especially evident, when one realizes that the Rastafari movement was meant to restore African pride and to build community, i.e. unity. Obeah sorcery, magic, or other “trickery” (such as represented by the trickster spider Anansy sories from the Akan heritage) are too “sneaky” and therefore too dependent on the “powers that be”. For the same reason, Rastas prefer the “lion” as proud symbol, rather than the “trickster” spider symbol, even if from the African heritage. A better, more solid sense of purpose, one might say. <p>
The trickster spider Anancy (from Akan culture) outsmarted on occasion powerful authorities in the stories (associated later with White masters), and likewise Obeah spells were used against White colonial authorities/masters too during slave rebellions. Not consequently though, and just as often the trickery or spells were used against one’s own people, fellow-slaves, fellow-sufferers, etcetera, only out of competition and for personal gain. <p>
It is this divisive inconsistence and competition within the community that Rastafari, after all, also sought to overcome. <p>
Traditional African religions of course have their own cultural complexity and beauty - and social/community functions! - too, as their relative intact remnants in the West also show (Santería, Vodou, Kumina, Candomblé, a.o.), including rich musical and percussive legacies, and keeping alive African, ancestral legacies. They, however, became corrupted too, in a cynical (slavery/colonial/exploitative) context of survival. Rastafari, rather, sought a more positive, assertive and unifying answer to this cynical colonial past, building on, yet going beyond - one might say: "repairing" - these African legacies.
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-62931289536482764942022-11-03T20:36:00.023-07:002022-11-04T11:54:14.395-07:00Brazil and the world orderBrazil is the country with the highest number of people of African descent, outside of Africa itself. <p>
The largest country of South America was once an important destination for the trans-Atlantic slave trade. Eventually, it outnumbered in number of imported slaves all other also major destinations in the Americas, numbering well in the millions. <p>
In the course of time, Brazil became independent from Portugal, and in recent times even kind of an “economic power” of sorts. In these times, the BRIC countries, and more updated BRICS countries (Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa), became a common term, representing a counterweight to the dominance of the US. <p>
<b>INFLUENCE</b><p>
What’s interesting to me is how Brazil - as largest South American country and economy - influenced our lives, or, more personally, mine: my musical and cultural interests notably. How and why? <p>
What is the Brazil that is presented to the world: the Amazon and its Amerindians, Afro-Brazilians (incl. Samba), football, carnival, or the white elite? Clichés and stereotypes, simplified images, or some of its complex reality? <p>
How did this reach me? Growing up in the Netherlands since the 1980s, and with Latin-speaking, South European (Italian and Spanish) parents? <p>
<b>NEOLIBERALISM</b><p>
In the Netherlands, because of economic might, but also due to linguistic reasons, the US was culturally much more influential, when I grew up. This was especially in mainstream culture and entertainment: pop music, cinema, television. This was in tandem with the US economic influence: companies and brands, neoliberal capitalism (of which I am NOT a fan), to which European countries adapted. Along with it came a commercial, pushy advertizing and "consumerism" we're supposed to take for granted, as Naomi Klein explained well in her work No Logo (1999), with as telling subtitle: 'taking aim at the brand bullies'.<p>
Personally, I think that the type of capitalism, the “Chicago school”, called “neoliberalism” has been an underestimated, virulent evil in this world. Its materialist, “money shark” and pro-rich focus had spectacular effects, but at the same time mainly favoured the wealthy, increasing global inequality. <p>
Its favouring of shareholders, replaced the once more “social” entrepreneurship (called “Rhineland model” by some) in parts of Europe, considering also employees’ well-being and rights to employment, the environment, i.e. a company’s wider social context. This was not all about the money, unlike this US-shaped neoliberalism, where harsh unsensitive firing of employees is stimulated rather than avoided. <p>
Compared to this strong cultural and economic mainstream influence the US obtained in Europe, Brazil remained strongly behind. Even in “Latin” countries as Spain or Italy – and even erstwhile colonizer Portugal -, the US got a more dominant influence than Brazil. Brazil remained an exotic place of which most knew not much beyond football, carnival, samba, bossa nova, and perhaps favelas. <p>
<b>COMPARISON</b><p>
The comparison between the US and Brazil I chose not randomly: they represent the largest countries in the Americas, the most numerous populations, yet a totally different position in international relations. <p>
This has historical reasons, such as the different colonial patterns, the later date of independence, and all kinds of social and climatic reasons. The connection of the US to the Anglo-Saxon world, ensured its ties to industrialization, that started in Britain in the Late 18th c. <p>
Yet, other countries reached that heightened degree of industrialization, outside of the West, notably Japan and South Korea, as well as China to a degree. Perhaps a tropical climate limits the “super power” potential in this capitalist, exploitative world, seeking control over “raw materials”. <p>
Lula Da Silva apparently just won Brazil’s elections in Late 2022, as I write this. I remember that same Lula Da Silva said in a speech for an international audience, about 20 years ago, (during an earlier presidency, I reckon) that: “for all intents and purposes, Brazil belongs to the Western world”. For some reason, I remembered this. It seemed at odds with his “Left-wing” image, and I do not know if I agree with it fully, maybe only partly. <p>
It is somehow disrespectful to the large African population in Brazil, as well as the original Amerindian population: the only cultural values that matter internationally are supposedly Euro-Western ones. There is however a strong cultural impact of Afro-Brazilians on Brazilian culture and society. <p>
<b>CUBA AND BRAZIL</b><p>
In that sense, a comparison can be made between Cuba, a country I know better, and Brazil. Both were Iberian colonies and important destinations of African slaves. <p>
For a large part these Africans in both colonies (Cuba and Brazil) were taken from roughly the same regions in Africa. “Roughly” because there are interesting differences regarding the Central African slaves ending up in Cuba and those in Brazil. Historical sources say that in Brazil more enslaved Africans came from is now Angola, and in the case of Cuba more from what is now DR Congo or Congo-Brazzaville, with the cultural differences this implies, even while sharing a Bantu heritage. <p>
It is noticeable in main cultural exports of both countries: the Brazilian Capoeira “martial dance” has clearly precursors in present-day Angola, while Afro-Cuban music genres like Son and Rumba – in turn shaping what we know as Salsa – evidently show Congo region musical characteristics: straight rhythms, polyrhythms and clave, pelvic moves, dances, etcetera. Some of these Central African traits, though, are also found in Afro-Brazilian Samba<p>
To both colonies, also relatively many slaves from Yorubaland (Nigeria, Benin) were brought, but from different parts of Yorubaland, again implying slight cultural differences. <p>
<b>PERCUSSION</b><p>
As a percussionist, I focused on both cultures (Cuba and Brazil) and its instruments, noting that these instruments differ: partly attributable to different colonizers: the “Portuguese/Lusophone” world e.g. uses more tambourines than the Hispanic one, but also due to different places of origins of enslaved Africans, even if bordering. There are interesting, remarkable peculiarities, alongside partial similarities. <p>
While a “conga-like” big drum can be found in Brazil too - and also like in Cuba several drum types -, there are differences. Tambourines are little used in Afro-Cuban music, but much in Afro-Brazilian music (Samba, capoeira music, carnival). Bongos (two attached small drums of different sizes) are not really found in Brazil, while on the other hand the Yoruba-derived Agogo bell in Brazil (with two connected different-sized bells) has no real equivalent in Cuba, where mostly single cowbells are used. <p>
Friction, rubbed drums with the high “monkey-like” sound, called: “cuicas” are typically Brazilian, although friction drums are used in Cuba, though with a much lower sound.. perhaps more akin to the sound of lions or lionesses. Why that difference in sound? The origins are mostly in Central Africa. <p>
Though as a percussionist I am overall more of the “Afro-Cuban” school and soon also of the Reggae and African schools, in time Brazilian instruments and music influenced me too, making myself even compositions based musically on Afro-Brazilian genres Samba or Afoxé. <p>
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<p>
Then there are other instruments, developed over time, that became unique to Afro-Brazilian culture, differing from e.g. Afro-Cuba. <p>
Both Cuba and Brazil represent cultural “power houses”, also with regard to internationally spread percussion instruments, each with own characteristics. They influenced music and not least percussion worldwide. <p>
In Cuba, guitars follow either Andalusian (South Spanish) or Canarian models, in Brazil smaller, Portuguese models, all used in Africanized contexts. <p>
Song structures and singing styles came to differ too, in relation to different colonizers and African influences. In part, Brazil also has stronger Amerindian influences. <p>
<b>RACE RELATIONS</b><p>
Through all these relative differences, within broader similarities (Iberian influences, Central African and Yoruba influences), a main similarity is the racial mixture. <p>
The latter is much stronger in both Brazil and Cuba, when compared to the US, where races “stayed apart” more historically. The Black or White worlds one might distinguish in the US, are less clear-cut in Brazil (and Cuba), though not absent. <p>
Political power, for example, remained – up to today! - for the largest part a Euro or White domain in both countries, in sharp contrast to “the street”. In Cuba, the Castro family (with roots in Galicia, Spain) shows this, but also most of the Communist Party’s leadership are White Cubans. Not representative racially, because in Cuba, about 60 % is either mixed or mostly African, with similar percentages in Brazil. <p>
Also in Brazil, politics and parliament remained long almost “lilly-white”, dominated by people of European descent, thus hardly representative. <p>
This “racial fluidity” – albeit with hypocrisy and inequality – did not reach Europe as much as influences from US-style Black-White dichotomies, echoing in US-style “minority” and "identity” discourses in some multicultural European countries (Britain, Netherlands, Belgium, France). <p>
This again shows a stronger US influence in Europe. This also showed in the relative attention to police violence often targeting Blacks in the US. As I wrote <a href="https://michelconci.blogspot.com/2020/06/military-logic.html">in an earlier article/post</a>, this also happens in Brazil, and in much higher numbers: police killings in the Rio de Janeiro state alone outnumbering those in the whole of US, and disproportionately affecting young Black men. We only hear less about it.<p>
In fact, I think comparing Brazil and the US – as comparable regarding size - and its present position in the world, is useful to highlight some major historically grown inequalities in this world, stemming largely from colonialism. <p>
Brazil is not really a “white" nation, but mostly mixed, with large minorities of mainly Africans or mainly Europeans - or Amerindians in some regions -, but mostly mixed, often also culturally. This is further complicated by migrations, such as the large Japanese community in the big city Sao Paolo, Italian and German migrants more in South Brazil. Nonetheless, Brazil has an image of “racial mixture”, including Africans. <p>
The US, despite its quite large African American minority, has the image of a “White”, European/Anglo-Saxon country, presenting itself to the world as such. With this, it gained power and influence and maintained it, showing – as much more - the colonial legacy of white supremacy today. <p>
Neoliberalist capitalism is largely a “US” invention, but another “economic model”, for instance developed in Brazil, would not be so influential and popular. We are stuck with the “hard”, shareholder-biased capitalism of neoliberalism, bearing a clear WASP (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant) system of values. A bit more popular or looser, Third World or “Latino” minded approach to economic life would actually be refreshing, but has little chance to influence European or global affairs. <p>
<b>NEW WORLD ORDER</b><p>
The recent lockdown policies and alignment with Big Pharma and Business of most Western countries, only showed that this neoliberal capitalism only became “harder”, until reaching totalitarian, Fascist characteristics. <p>
The term Fascist I chose specifically, because the alignment of Big State and Big Business we now see, has a precursor in Mussolini’s Fascist policies in Italy since the 1920s: this was called Corporatism, sharing the same principle: big money is big power. <p>
The former President of Brazil Jair Bolsanoro was not perfect, said some nonsensical things probably, but at least was to a degree justly critical of such lockdown/fascist directions and of Big Pharma’s and WHO’s influence. He differed in this from more compliant leaders, also in Latin America, and in the West. <p>
Some Brazil experts I know here in the Netherlands, told me that Bolsonaro – while White and Middle-Class - did not come from the traditional elite (with its dubious links to the historical plantocracy), and as an outsider was more independent. <p>
That the newly elected President of Brazil, Lula Da Silva, once said – as mentioned - that “for all intents and purposes, Brazil is part of the West”, does not seem promising for an own course, though some commentators say he wants to go an own way. It will be merely “neoliberalism with a social face”, Dutch scholar Kees Van Der Pijl said. <p>
I can only hope that his election does not represent a “putting in line” of Brazil’s government policies with global governance – present neoliberal fascism -, or any Agenda the UN has (2030), which do not benefit the poor people of this world (only in name). <p>
That’s another thing, when comparing the US and Brazil: Brazil has (overall) still a much higher poverty rate than the USA, including predictable racial disparities. <p>
Lula Da Silva must know this too. Would he sell his soul to this globalist capitalist elite at the cost of his multiracial people? <p>
Time will tell, and will show whether the elections were indeed fraudulent, or that corruption/bribing is hidden from sight. <p>
If this is the case, the vague yet outdated image of Lula Da Silva as anti-elite Left-wing is precisely that: an outdated memory, past and gone, fake and false, in this negatively changing, corrupted world of politics, shaped by a global, Western-led capitalist elite. <p>
Unfortunately, Brazil is then indeed part of this exploitative Western world, and more compliantly so. Such as it became since colonialism.
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-68256569039946213102022-10-06T17:59:00.004-07:002022-10-06T18:48:35.410-07:00Melisma“Melisma” is an interesting word. While its meaning might be relatively unknown among many, it describes a phenomenon that is somehow known and encountered by many, yet not mentally or rationally “named” as such.. perhaps because there was not really a need to “name” it.<p>
Simply put: melisma is a singing style stretching one syllable over several notes. Often resulting in one “vocal run” across notes (but of one syllable). This can thus be contrasted to “syllabic” singing, with each syllable representing a note. The latter, syllabic singing, is much more common in large parts of the world, including in Western pop music.<p>
On the other extreme, though, are regions in this world where “melismatic” singing is very common, even close to “the norm” and have a long tradition: the Middle East, North Africa, parts of Eastern Africa, India, but also the Greek Orthodox world, and the South of Spain, with Flamenco as known "folk music"/world music example.
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<p>
Its origins is dated at least to 3.000 years back.<p>
In these regions melismatic singing has a century-long tradition, with dominance in certain (sub)genres, especially more “religious” singing or “free” singing, less bound to certain rhythmic patterns. Within Flamenco, some subgenres have a fixed, faster rhythm and therefore allow less melismatic singing, though some skilled singers still can pull it off. Outside of these regions and influences, it has somewhat of a tradition in singing in the Celtic and Slavic world, in some aspects and song forms. <p>
To most people’s ears, in its rough form, though, melisma reminds of North African and Arabic music, though it is also found in Jewish singing, and in Ethiopia, which has a long Christian tradition. There is thus no specific religious connection, also as it became common in European Gregorian chanting as well, though with different “feels” (more intense in North Africa). <p>
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<b>TOWARD POP</b><p>
Global Spanish influence, and Islamic influence, might have helped spread melisma wider, though often mixed with local precedents. After all: it does not seem so strange a thought to “lengthen” vocally a syllable or word over several notes, for an effect of “intensity” for instance. <p>
This effect of “intensity” made it common in Black music in the Americas as well. From religious Gospel to secular Soul and R&B, and related genres. Again, like in Flamenco, more in the “slower”, less rhythmically bound genres, with “freer” singing. <p>
Melismatic singing can thus be found here and there in songs by Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, and Aretha Franklin, and even more in songs by Whitney Houston, Deniece Williams, Mariah Carey, Luther Vandross, as it entered more the Western pop mainstream. Whitney Houston’s mass global hit ‘I will always love you’ is said to be the song that popularized “melismatic” singing most.. even among people who did not know the word “melisma”. <p>
Houston’s song is a good example, becoming especially powerful with actually good singers with extraordinary vocal reach: like Whitney Houston, but also Mariah Carey, or Luther Vandross, to name some known ones, using melisma. <p>
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In this Black “soul” music, it is often associated with the more-or-less spiritual concept of “soul” itself, due to its intense feel, though not the only component – of course – of “soulful” singing, but an important one. <p>
Even more structurally, also in secular “pop” music in e.g. Ethiopia – Ethio-pop - melisma is used, as in Spain (even in “flamenco pop”), in Hindustani Pop or in modernized pop-like music in North Africa (like Rai) and the Arab world. <p>
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I myself tried to sing melimatically too, of course (e.g. in the chorus of my song "Mañana Mañana"). I found it was - as so often - not as easy as it seemed: a skill requiring both experience and commitment, really only learned within a culture itself. Others only can (maybe) come close.
<p>
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<p>
In other contexts, the “trance-like” feel of melisma and multi-notes syllable has a kind of religious function, in spiritual contexts, such as in the Islamic world (think of the mosques’ Muezzin chanter calling for prayer), Jewish services, or Gregorian chants. Also in the Hindu world of India there are examples of this. <p>
<b>RHYTHM</b><p>
Though I like all music, I consider myself a “rhythm man” (I play percussion, for one). An interesting question I therefore find is in how far melisma in singing can be combined well with a groovy rhythm. Vaguely I know this to be the case, finding the challenge of fitting melisma in the rhythm of singers intriguing. <p>
Good examples I know from Stevie Wonder, Reggae songs by soulful singers like Alton Ellis, Dennis Brown, Don Carlos, and Ijahman Levi (example: song Moulding), but in fact Ijahman Levi uses melisma in several songs. <p>
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Also other singing styles found within Reggae “echo” melismatic traits, certainly the “Waterhouse style” (named after a ghetto area in Kingston, Jamaica) “wailing” chant, with some hints towards “yodeling”, but likewise to soulful melisma, by singers like Michael Rose and Yami Bolo, and in the band Black Uhuru (where Michael Rose long sang) <p>
In Flamenco, it is common to restrain/keep from melisma in faster, more rhythmically bound subgenres of Flamenco – sticking there more to syllabic note-per-syllable singing, although very skilled singers, such as Arcángel, are revered for “fitting” melisma in the rhythm/beat (“compás” in Spanish). In Flamenco this skill is praised as “velocidad” (literal: “velocity/speed”): fitting melismatic singing in faster rhythms. <p>
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Several already mentioned Reggae artists proved as well that melismatic singing can be "fitted" well in a good Reggae groove (Black Uhuru!), as did Soul or R&B singers. <p>
Also Ethiopian music genres with strong rhythms often combine successfully with variants of melismatic singing, often faster types. <p>
It is thus not restricted to “ballad”-like songs, or slow Soul or R&B. Some Soul singers made upbeat, “dance” song using melisma, such as Beyoncé and Leona Lewis. <p>
So, interesting from the musical perspective is its link with “rhythm”. In fact, one can argue that melisma relates more to relatively “rhythmic” music, as also Spanish folk music is known (compared to the rest of Europe). Melisma and flexible rhythms seemed made for each other. <p>
“Straighter” rhythms as in the Sub-Saharan African tradition, i.e. clave-based polyrhythmic pieces, with its rhythmic “tight complexity” and call-and-response, allows less melismatic singing, or extended notes. <p>
Cuba inherited that tradition through its African-descended population, mainly from that “clave-based” polyrhythmic cultural region (Congo region, Yorubaland, Calabar), while singing more similar to melisma can be found in the (guitar-based) “Punto” or "Punto Guajiro" genre in rural Cuba, which is said to represent influences from other historical heritages in Cuba: of the Canary islands and South Spain, including Flamenco-like vocal influences.<p> <iframe width="430" height="242" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QbADTqO1xfs" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe><p> To a lesser degree, these also show in vocal parts in Son and Salsa, mixed in with African (esp. Congo) influences.<p>
Part of the variation in singing – of say: a lead singer between the chorus - is also covered as African languages are mostly tonal, so “up and down” movements are inherent to the languages, whereas in languages like Arab and Spanish this should be deliberately searched by own intonation. <p>
<b>COMPENSATION</b><p>
That is also an interesting way to look at it, and I think an interesting conclusion: melisma as musical/vocal “compensation” for speaking a non-tonal language, like e.g. Arab, Hindi, English, or Spanish, thus adding desired vocal variety and fluctuation. Bantu languages, for instance, have that inherently, but this vocal varying is sought by in other languages too, apparently. <p>
Always pleasant to notice that there’s more that unites humanity worldwide than divides it, which at the same time – as a nice irony - translates in quite different cultures and music styles.. This only makes this world more varied and interesting. <p>
We’re not the same, but we’re equally creative. Something like that..<p>Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-75652607315876011732022-09-09T04:55:00.006-07:002023-10-03T22:25:37.427-07:00Reggae music lovers (in the Netherlands): Mystic TammyHow people got to be reggae music lovers or fans has always fascinated me. Maybe partly because reggae still is off/outside the mainstream, also in the Netherlands. It is not found that easily, let’s just say. It requires (to a degree) an extraordinary life path: that is, different from copying the masses, or simply following what’s commonly on television or the radio. <p>
Reggae has of course since decades gone international and widened its fan base, but I have known individually quite different reggae fans within the Netherlands. Black and white (and Asian, or mixed etc.). Males and females. Old and young. Some with little education, some highly educated. Of different class backgrounds. Some combine liking reggae quite equally with other genres (e.g.: some with African, funk, soul, some with hip-hop, some even with non-black music genres), while others on the other hand adhere almost “strictly” to reggae music, and do not get into much else. Some like roots reggae more than dancehall or vice versa. There are even reggae fans – believe it or not - who do not smoke the “ganja herb”. <p>
Furthermore, some have an interest or sympathy for the related subject of Rastafari, some do not, or even despise it. The latter, despise, I find somewhat odd since Rastafari is not the same as reggae, but is nonetheless connected to it. <p>
These differences (and similarities) between and among reggae fans/lovers intrigue me, also in relation to personal backgrounds. That’s the reason why I would like to interview specific individuals who love reggae. <p>
Before this I have interviewed 11 persons – reggae lovers I know, “breddas” (meaning “brothers”, or "friends" in Jamaican parlance) of mine – here in the Netherlands. <p>
I started the series on this blog with a post of June 2012, when I interviewed <a href="http://michelconci.blogspot.com/2012/06/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands.html">Abenet</a>. In April of 2013 I interviewed <a href="">Bill</a>. After this I interviewed <a href="http://michelconci.blogspot.com/2014/05/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands.html">Manjah Fyah</a>, in May 2014. For my blog post of August 2015, I interviewed, somewhat more extensively, <a href="http://michelconci.blogspot.com/2015/08/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands.html">(DJ) Rowstone (Rowald)</a>. In August 2016, then, I interviewed <a href="http://michelconci.blogspot.com/2016/08/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands-vega.html">Vega Selecta</a>. In October 2017, I interviewed <a href="http://michelconci.blogspot.com/2017/10/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands-dj.html">DJ Ewa</a>. Then, for my post of September 2018, I interviewed for the first time a woman, namely <a href="https://michelconci.blogspot.com/2018/09/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands.html">Empress Messenjah or Empress Donna Lee</a>. In August 2019 I interviewed another woman, namely <a href="https://michelconci.blogspot.com/2019/08/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands.html">Sound Cista</a>. For my blog post of September 2020 I interviewed another Reggae-loving woman, French but living in the Netherlands, <a href="https://michelconci.blogspot.com/2020/09/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands.html">Selectress Aur'El</a>. For my blog post of September 2021 I interviewed again a "bloke" (fun way to say" "man") selecta <a href="https://michelconci.blogspot.com/2021/09/reggae-music-lovers-in-netherlands.html">Hobbol Backawall</a>. <p>
<b>MYSTIC TAMMY</b> <p>
This time, I interview a woman again, namely a female selecta/selectress (deejay) residing in Amsterdam, the Netherlands, called Mystic Tammy. Besides selecta, she is also a Reggae-oriented radio host for Razo (a local Amsterdam SE station), under the title Mystic Royal Selections. She is known as Mystic Tammy, and her real name is Tamara Wijngaarde. <p>I personally know her from the Reggae scene since around 2012, as Reggae selecta in some Reggae-minded clubs, or concert venues, in Amsterdam and around, such as Café the Zen, or at other events and locations in the country. I tended to like her selections. I noticed how she made quite a name for herself, also as a radio host for Razo Amsterdam (<a href="https://razoamsterdam.nl/">https://razoamsterdam.nl/</a>), interviewing many local artists, and also several internationally known (Jamaican) Reggae artists like Bushman, by phone live during broadcast.
Lately, her show was Sundays starting at 15:00 CET, meaning that it was (6 hours earlier) in Jamaica, often in the morning, but I remember nice and informative interviews with Bushman, Nature Ellis, and many other well-known artists on her show, as well as with local, Netherlands-based artists, like Samora and Zed I, in the studio. Her (after all: online) show seems to have an international audience. <p>
Kind of true to her "nickname" or "moniker" Mystic, I did not know that much more of her, though on occasion she spoke quite openly with me. Still some mysteries about Tammy are left to unfold, also for me, haha. That's why I asked her the questions underneath, as she responded them, also in person with me in an open conversation. We met among other things in the Reggae-minded (duh!) bar named Jamaica Lounge in Amsterdam (West). <p>
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<p>
(Photo above: me (L.) with Mystic Tammy)<p>
<b>QUESTIONS</b><p>
<b>Where were you born, and did you grow up?</b> <p>
<i>In Suriname, born in 1975. Grew up in the Netherlands, from around my 4th year. Lived in different places in the Netherlands: a.o. Lelystad, Groningen, Purmerend, the South, before now (last 10 years) in Amsterdam..</i> <p>
<i>In Groningen (North Netherlands) I lived around 17 years.</i><p>
<b>Since what age did/do you listen Reggae music?</b> <p>
<i>I first heard Reggae as a child, because my father had quite some records, incl. some Lovers Rock Reggae.. He gave me a cassette of Prince and UB40, which was played at my house, incl. Dennis Brown, Peter Tosh, Bob Marley at times.. More often as genre I heard the Surinamese genre Kaseko, growing up.</i> <p>
<i>At home also a lot of Gospel, as my parents were active Christians for the Evangelische Broeder Gemeente - EBG - (Moravian Brethren), a Protestant Church (of German origin) historically adhered to among Creoles in Surinam, and they were quite religious. So Gospel, and other Black music too, like Soul, Motown.. Further, even some Dutch "crooners" like André Hazes were played, haha.. So quite varied.. With that music I grew up. </i><p>
<i>When I was grounded as punishment to my room at home, I listened also secretly to alternative “pirate” radio stations.. </i><p>
<i>As I got older, I also started listening to House music more. For some reason I chose that.. I don’t even feel any shame for it, haha.</i> <p>
<i>Alongside this, though, Reggae, I always kept in mind, as I appreciated the messages in Reggae, and the “tranquility” it somehow gave me. It always stayed with me, even during that House period. </i><p>
<i>As I was a teenager, Early Dancehall (Reggae) was in vogue, and I chose to listen that too: Shabba Ranks and others, such as that found on those Strictly The Best compilation albums, my father had. I encountered that in my high school period: I started smoking weed then too, so that Reggae was connected to it.</i> <p>
<b>What attracted you to Reggae then?</b> <p>
<i>As said, the messages, and tranquility I found in Reggae.. Life lessons too, as girl/young woman growing up.</i> <p>
<i>More or less from my 23th year of age, I got more into Reggae, after an uncle of my gave – or left - me a lot of Reggae records (vinyl). I delved into it, and in Groningen then (I lived there 17 years), went to Reggae concerts and parties, incl. in Oosterpoort and elsewhere.. Also played as vinyl deejay in bars. From then on I played mostly Roots Reggae, as from that vinyl collection inherited from my uncle: LKJ, Ijahman Levi, Dennis Brown, Israel Vibration, Desmond Dekker, and many more. </i><p>
<i>Through this scene, I got into contact with people from the Forward Sound Movement – a Reggae sound system - in Groningen. Steely from Round Beat HiFi approached me first as I was Selecting/deejaying, and got me into the Groningen-based Forward Sound Movement, training me further in Reggae “selecting” (from vinyl).</i> <p>
<i>As deejay, they called me Mystic Tammy.. That moniker with “Mystic” came from that time in the Forward Roots Movement: they called me that, don’t know exactly why: maybe they thought I was kind of mysterious, as I indeed can be.. Or because of the type of songs I played/selected..</i> <p>
<i>We continued with the Groningen-based dj/selecta collective Forward Sound Movement (sometimes cooperating with Jah Sound), with other dj’s like Fabulous D, Jah Jenco, Peacemaker, and Broer Hazekamp. In places/bars in Groningen, but also played at Reggae Sundance in 2005 (South Netherlands), but even travelled internationally to Germany, Tyrol, and got even mentioned in the Riddim magazine. We saw a lot.</i> <p>
<i>This was all when I lived in Groningen: I only live now in Amsterdam since about 10 years (since around 2012). </i><p>
<b>Have your musical preferences changed, since then? </b><p>
<i>Now I am mostly a Roots Reggae lover, but like to listen Motown music too, quite a lot.</i> <p>
<i>Also, I am really into Afrobeat now, some nice female artists in in it!</i> <p>
<b>Do you have preferences within the broad Reggae genre? Does e.g. Digital Dancehall appeal to you as much as Roots Reggae?</b> <p>
<i>Roots Reggae mostly, only once so often Digital Dancehall.. I tried to play Dancehall as selecta early on, as part of the Forward Sound Movement, but we concluded it was too “slack” (sexually explicit/violent).. I stuck then to my Roots Reggae, and was glad to: gave me more tranquility. The positive message is also important for me: reason why I focus on the chorus with the main message: mixing Reggae also like this (from Chorus to other Chorus lyrics on riddims), to get the message across..</i> <p>
<i>Messages are after all important for me, and I don’t want to play slackness.</i> <p>
<i>Within Reggae, it is hard for me to say whether I am more a fan of some artists than of others. I enjoyed the Burning Spear concert, and I love Roots concerts, but really am not selective as fan.. Reggae is so broad. Sometimes I listen more to that artist, other times to others.. </i><p>
<i>There are some songs, though, that are important, for me personally.. An example is: I Am That I Am by Peter Tosh, or Pick Myself Up by Peter Tosh.</i> <p>
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<i>There was also a period that I listened a lot to Lucky Dube, but at a given moment it made my kind of sad, because of its heaviness. It all depends on my phase or mood, I guess..</i> <p>
<b>Since when are you a radio host? </b><p>
<i>I am a radio host since about 10 years, started at Razo (local South East Amsterdam radio station) around 2012.. I like it there: I can do my thing.. </i><p>
<i>Actually, I started out with Esta Selecta, taking me under her wings. Kind of..because she wanted to make me into another Esta Selecta, but I wanted to become more “Tammy”, do my own thing, and could do that at the Razo station. </i><p>
<i>Recently I try to put variety in my shows, Roots, but occasionally also Dancehall. Since I am host, I get a lot of music sent, digitally, from (local and Jamaican) artists who want their music to be played in my show. I keep most of it, but I really have to like it, “feel” something with it, to play it on my show. Some don’t like that, but it’s my show. </i><p>
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<p>
<b>Do you have a (format) preference for Vinyl or digital/cd? As selecta/dj or listener. </b><p>
<i>I started out as said as a vinyl deejay/selecta, involving a lot of carrying and lifting of boxes with records .. With my back problems, digital formats became easier: all music on a USB stick.. I still prefer the sound of vinyl, though: it makes the sound more real, even if slightly “scratchy”..</i> <p>
<b>Do you play musical instruments, or are you in other ways active musically? </b><p>
<i>I play some percussion and sing sometimes. I have three djembe’s of different sizes, I play them sometimes on music at home. I would love to learn to play the bass guitar too, do more with guitar playing.</i> <p>
<b>Did you have any special experiences of encounters in the course of time (with artists or producers)?</b> <p>
<i>Several.. One very special one was with Burning Spear, at Reggae Sundance (festival near Eindhoven, Netherlands) in 2005, - before the “selfie” and smartphone age -, but very memorable.. Just being there, reasoning with such a great artist. Turbulence I met also there. I had many special and memorable meetings with artists, such as with Bushman. Backstage contact is sometimes difficult, because more people want attention of that same artist.. </i><p>
<i>Very nice was also my meeting of Junior Kelly during a concert he did with Jahbar I in P60 (Amstelveen), not long ago in 2019: he was very kind and open..</i> <p>
<i>I met the artiste Jah Mason in Jamaica, also very special: seeing how he was really active with farming. Saw a nice show in Ocho Rios (Jamaican North coast) of Iba Mahr and others, Twelve Tribe people were there, Lutan Fyah came there, and other artists. So we were with them.</i> <p>
<b>Does the Rastafari message in much Reggae appeal to you? How does this relate to your background, and views? </b><p>
<i>My parents and family belonged, as already mentioned, to the EBG (Moravian Brethren) , a Protestant Christian Church, and were quite religious. I had to go to Sunday school, was in a church choir.. Yet, I have always been a rebel.. at one point I did not want to go anymore to that Sunday school.</i> <p>
<i>In time, when I grew my dreadlocks, my parents were at first “not amused”, I becoming kind of a “black sheep”, but they accepted it over time, we worked it out, and I now have good bond with my parents.. They do their thing, I do mine.. </i><p>
<i>I do not really present myself just as Rasta, even though they call me that.. I am just Tamara.. I try to do/enact “my own way” of Livity within Rastafari, progressing well in that sense..</i> <p>
<i>I am mostly looking at the “pureness” of myself as person. However, I certainly feel there is more to all this materiality, more between heaven and earth. Some kind of divinity within us..</i> <p>
<i>Most of all, I believe in “eternal love”.. </i> <p>
<b>How do you judge/evaluate the present-day position of women within the Reggae scene? </b><p>
<i>As a woman I do find it kind of hard.. I encountered a lot of prejudice and negative assumptions, such as the presumption that I only reached some positions or achieve things by “opening my legs” to some men. I don’t like that judgmental attitude. Accept people as they are, and let people do their own thing, I would say. </i><p>
<i>In the Forward Sound Movement back then, I was the only female deejay/selecta, but that was a fun time with oneness among us..</i><p>
<i>In the course of the years, however, I certainly fought my way through all this machismo.. if I wanted to stop, I would have stopped a 10.000 times. I just fought on and hung in there. Sometimes you need to be “tough” too and firmly defend yourself.</i> <p>
<i>As a woman (deejay), men tend to “expect” more of you, want something or start flirting. When you don’t go along or refuse, they even call you arrogant or bitchy. <p>
In my mailbox, I even get certain sexual ”pictures” or “wishes”.. Of course, I block these then..</i> <p>
<i>Despite the number of female deejays/selecta’s having increased in recent times, we still have it hard in this world.. Women still have to be firm and stand their ground in this business. </i><p>
<i>Also the number of Reggae artistes have increased, recently, like Queen Ifrica, Black Omolo, and Lila Ike is blossoming now. Furthermore, here are also icons like Rita Marley and Marcia Griffiths, still performing. </i><p>
<p>
<i>I do not think Reggae is worse in this male bias/machismo than other genres, though.</i> <p>
<p>
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<b>What Reggae artists do you listen to now, any specific artists? Any new “discoveries” you would like to mention?</b> <p>
<i>I kept up to date with all Reggae developments, and appreciate the “new school” of New Roots (Chronixx, Richie Spice, Etana, etc.), and artists playing on Reggae Jam and other festivals, such as Nkulee Dube, but even an artist like Mavado I got to appreciate more..</i> <p>
<i>With regard to “new” Reggae artists I think some are good and somewhat underrated, such as Mortimer, Stranjah Miller, Jahbar I, Micah Shemaiah is also very good, and Samory I. Also, Etana – although not really “new” anymore – does good things. Yeza, a good female artist who sang with Sizzla, is also worthy of mention.</i> <p>
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<b>REFLECTION AND COMPARISON </b><p>
This was a very informative interview for me, and indeed some mysteries were "resolved" about Mystic Tammy - Tamara -, at least for me. <p>
Interesting how the "route to Reggae" could differ somewhat between the different people I interviewed for this blog section (Reggae lovers in the Netherlands) over the years, from parents to siblings, or in other cases, via friends or media, and the relationship to other music genres around them when growing up. Reggae has gone international and has spread widely, but some heard it already at their parental house.<p>
Some parents were religious, such as Tammy's, influencing music played (e.g. Gospel) or the ease of acceptance of Rastafari encountered in life.<p>
As some other female interviewees already mentioned: it is not always easy for a woman in a male-dominated music industry, as selecta, or otherwise, though they also found support. Moreover, I personally doubt whether the Reggae scene is more male-biased or macho than other music genre scenes, including Western pop, or genres like Country, where certain roles are expected from women, when they are accepted as equal at all. So that is a wider problem. Mystic Tammy did point out that it still is kind of a struggle, also within the Reggae scene, with challenges and botherations men might meet less.<p>
As a child I liked Stevie Wonder, not long before I got into Reggae in my Early Teens, so that is some "Motown" similarity with what Tammy mentioned. My parents were loosely, socialist-minded "free" Catholics, and Italian and Spanish, so I did not hear much "religious" music (Gospel, church songs) at my house, but more "Latin" music. Other interviewees heard yet other music first (and even lacked a "Caribbean region" background, like Tammy, and other interviewed before) - or listen still alternately to other music too (Punk, Rock, African, Soul, Pop, Hip Hop, even House) - to differing degrees -, but we all ended up in beautiful and varied Reggae music, haha. Each with, as is natural, own personal preferences within it. I share with Tammy, and with other interviewees, a preference for Roots Reggae, from artists like Burning Spear, as well as for New Roots (Iba Mahr, Samory I, Lutan Fyah, a.o.).<p>
The Netherlands is a relatively small country - if densely populated and wealthy -, but strange enough I was not fully aware that the city of Groningen (w. around 200.000 inhabitants), in the North of the Netherlands, also had an active Reggae scene, by the 1990s, just like Amsterdam has, with various selecta's/deejay's and sound systems.. but why wouldn't it? International reggae artists often performed also in Groningen's Oosterpoort venue regularly, after all.<p>
All in all, very insightful!
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-41449897311187260682022-08-02T09:39:00.000-07:002022-08-02T09:39:15.446-07:00Bongo: an etymological journeyI admit: I like to play with language. I even am intrigued by the intricacies, the history and adaptability of different languages. It’s not the same, but this attitude helps when you want to study different languages: you stay interested, even through boring and technical (grammar) parts. Language has for me, though, to be connected to history, and actual meaning, since history and culture interest me even more. Language as such is the result and instrument of history and culture, you can say. <p>
<b>LANGUAGE AND CULTURE</b><p>
Basic anthropology lessons also taught me that there is a direct link between language and culture, in the history of mankind. Not everyone might be aware of that. One notable fact is that the use of “double meanings” or “metaphor” through language, is how culture – and cultural differences – took shape. A conscious linguistic creation, or “word power”, less so the other way around (first culture then words?). <p>
<b>POSSIBILITY AND REFLECTION</b><p>
Because of all this I always was interested in etymology: the origins of certain terms or words, in the own or other languages, the historical origins and changes. “What’s in a name?”, Shakespeare wrote. He meant of course that in itself is not “truth”.. good to remember. Words are certainly not necessarily “truth” , I even argue that words conceal more “truth” than they reveal. What words always are, however: possibility, as well as reflections. Also in light of its role in cultural formation. <p>
<b>BONGO</b><p>
From this last angle (possibility and reflection), I am going to focus in the remainder of this post on the etymology of a word I studied, with relevance for my personal interests and passions: the word “bongo”. <p>
For this blog I wrote a lot about Cuban and Jamaican music, as well as other interests of mine, such as Africa, and international developments. Of course I discussed already on some posts the Afro-Cuban musical instrument, the drum the Bongos, more correctly in Cuban Spanish, the singular: Bongó (for both attached drums). That might be internationally the best known meaning of Bongo, among most people. <p>
Yet there’s more to it. <p>
<b>DRUMS</b><p>
Bongó as term for the small attached drums appeared in the mountainous East of Cuba, the regions of Guantanamo and Santiago de Cuba, first around the Late 19th c.. Local music forms, such as the Son Changüí and the Son, used initially a combination of instruments, including guitars, a thumb piano as bass (marimbula), shakers, and the bongo drums. Earliest drums called “bongó” go back to the late 19th c., and were called “del monte” (from the hills). <p>
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A bit later, as Son developed (from Changüí, around Santiago de Cuba), the Bongó changed somewhat in playing style (small drum on other site, tuning pegs). This adapted “son” form of Bongó travelled later to Havana (and beyond). <p>
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<br>
<i>(Photo above: a photo I took of a local (Son-style) Bongó player in Los Dos Abuelos, a patio-based music club in Santiago de Cuba.)</i> <p>
There is a strong Congo/Central African influence among the Afro-Cubans in Eastern Cuba, and the instrument the Bongó (as well as the marimbula) shows this Bantu influence (open bottoms, e.g.). Also the name, according to some historians. Cuban anthropologist Fernando Ortiz traces it back to a few words in the Bantu and Congo area in Africa, such as “Mgombo”, simply meaning drum, but probably mixed with other words meaning something like “cultural”. <p>Ortiz also noted that similar early "bongó-like" drums had another name in the province Holguín, in the NE of Cuba (and North of Guantanamo and Santiago), namely "Tahona". This sounds more European than bongó, and indeed the province Holguín is ethnically much more "Whiter" than Santiago de Cuba and Guantanamo, as I also noticed when I once travelled from Holguín to friends in Santiago de Cuba. Incidentally, I also passed by Birán in Holguín where Fidel Castro (indeed also a White Cuban) came from. His Galician (N-Spain)-born father had a plantation there, employing a.o. Haitians. But I digress, haha.<p>
Historian Farris-Thompson concluded that the African origins of slaves in the Americas did differ from region to region, but that the “Congo” area united them almost all, as slaves from Central Africa were relatively widespread throughout the whole Americas. Indeed, culturally it left legacies in various countries and folk traditions. From Argentina to the US South. <p>
Relatively much in Cuba and Brazil (where an estimated 40% of the enslaved Africans were from Congo/Central Africa). Interestingly, historians points at some difference between these once Iberian colonies, as to Brazil went more slaves from the Angola area, and to Cuba more from what is now DR Congo. <p>
Yet, in several colonies “Congo” or “Bantu” slaves made up quite a percentage among the Africans. In Jamaica, about 20%.<p>
<b>JAMAICA</b><p>
In Jamaican speech, especially the local Creole (Patois) or variants of Jamaican English, the word “bongo” is used regularly, and not just for drums. <p>
Bongo is used for drums in Jamaica too, to be sure, not even always the mentioned Cuban drums, but often as a colloquial term for all drums, even if more correctly having own names (conga, kete, djembe, etc.). Culturally more intriguing is its other uses in Jamaica, notably among some spiritual movements, including the Rastafari. While vague, it is deeply cultural. <p>
In Jamaican speech a “bongo” is even a word for, simply, a “black man” or a “dark-skinned African” ("backra" is then white man, "coolie" an East Indian), but goes beyond appearance. Among the Rastafari, “Bongo” is a kind of honorary title for an elder: someone with a long, founding history among the Rastas, keeping the culture alive. A term of “authenticity”, you might say. Rastafari elders (older men) - or other "key" tradition keepers, are thus often called “Bongo”, as in Bongo Joe, Bongo Jerry, or Bongo Herman (a well-known Reggae percussionist). Often there is a link with their drumming (Nyabinghi or otherwise). <p>
An intriguing use, also because of how Jamaican historians define it, such as in the Dictionary of Jamaican English (ed. By F.G. Cassidy and R.B. Le Page). “Bongo” or also “bungo”’s original meaning, also in some Bantu languages (around Cameroon and Congo) partly “country bumpkin”, is asserted in this dictionary. Actually, they mention a non-Bantu language, N-Nigerian Hausa where “bongo” is used for “country bumpkin”. Thus somewhat derogatory as “backward” peasants, named as such by more urban, modernized people, in some parts of Africa. <p>
This odd mix of uses, further mixed with the inferiority complex due to Jamaica’s colonial past, as “bongo” was often used derogatory for “country” people, but also for someone looking very Black or African, thereby upholding European, rather than own beauty standards. <p>
This makes the positive use and meanings among the Rastafari adherents of “Bongo” – i.e. a true, “cultural” Rastaman, a wise elder, cultural safeguard of tradition -, rebellious and assertive. A proud reaffirmation of the African cultural heritage. Language, - here the term “Bongo” -, as “possibility” or “word power”. <p>
<b>KUMINA</b><p>
There is another spiritual tradition in Jamaica, though, where Bongo is used, one of largely African (Congo) origin: Kumina. Kumina is especially found in Eastern Jamaica, the mountainous parish of St Thomas and around. It originated among Africans of mainly Congo origin, becoming in time a bit more pan-African, with references to Yoruba, Igbo, or Akan cultures, also present among African slaves. The main cosmology and vocabulary of Kumina remained Congo/Bantu, however. Spirit possession dances, aimed at ancestors passing knowledge, or on “healing”, form core rituals whereby good drumming and chants – with even remnants of the Congo language – invoke the right spirits. This relates to chants and drum patterns. <p>
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Well now, these Kumina-initiated families get the title ‘Bongo’. So also honorary as name/title in that sense, with special “safeguarding” functions in the Kumina tradition. <p>
In the collective volume ‘Chanting down Babylon: the Rastafari reader’ (several authors, ed. by N.s. Murrell, W.D. Spencer, and A.A. McFarlane, 1998), authors point out that in fact Rastafari was partly influenced by Kumina, as early Rastas knew about Kumina and had connections with them. In percussion there is a direct influence, such as through known percussionists like Count Ossie, said to be connected to Kumina. The “heartbeat” rhythm of the big drums in Congo-based Kumina influenced Rastafari Nyabinghi drum patterns, though somewhat simplified and slowed when compared to Kumina. <p>
In the above volume, the term “bongo” is mostly used when referring to Kumina terminology, but thus with an influence on Rastafari. Kumina has a longer history (19th c., while Rastafari as such since the 1930s). <p>
<b>SPIRITUAL</b><p>
The term Bongó in Eastern Cuba for the drums, seemed more practical, though not meaningless. It might on some level denote “African” as Bongo in Jamaican colloquial speech, distinguishing it from other instruments from other continents (Spanish/Canarian guitars, notably) in Cuban Son music, while partly also meaning, simply: drum. <p>
Interestingly, originally the Bongó in earliest forms of Son and Changüí were called “bongó de monte” (bongo from the hills/mountains), referring to a rural origin, and the rural reference the term Bongo has in some African languages. <p>
While many well-known early Bongo players in Cuba, also after it spread to Havana, had links with Afro-Cuban spirituality and faiths (Santería, Abakuá, or Palo), the Bongos themselves became part of popular music, first in the rural East. <p>
When the Son genre moved to Western Cuba, the White colonial establishment at first discouraged and even forbade such “African” drums – yet in time, the Bongos joined the increased acceptance of Afro-Cuban music, later also internationally, finding a way in US-developed Salsa and other Latin genres, as may be more known. <p>
The “spiritual” got somewhere in the back behind amusement, it seems, in the Cuban case, but not lost. Several of the early pioneers of Bongo playing in Cuba incorporated Afro-Cuban spiritual drumming aspects (from e.g. Yoruba-based Santería), but translated them for popular music. It therefore cannot be separated fully. <p>
In Jamaica, the very word “Bongo” came to mean both “earthly” as “spiritual”. This fitted with the “natural livity” part of the Rastafari faith. Spirit possession was accepted less, due to the Christian influence on Rastafari, but some aspects of Kumina and similar African traditions found a way – as said - in Rastafari. The relationship between drumming and “spirituality” (healing, community) is shown more abstractly in Nyabinghi sessions, where often the word “bongo” is used too, though the drums have own names (kete, fundeh, repeater), from yet other (Akan) African traditions. So, like in Cuba, there were (reworked) pan-African influences at play. <p>
<b>BANTU</b><p>
The connection to specifically the Bantu-speaking area and the Congo region of the word “Bongo” was never questioned, though. The term’s early appearance in Eastern Cuba and Kumina confirm that Congo origin, even beyond the superficial fact that the word just “sounds” Bantu: such as more words, like the “mb” and “ng” combination, but that is no guarantee. <p>
Some words with “ng” or “mb” sound and are Bantu/Congo in origin, also in the African diaspora (“mambo” in Cuban music, “makamba” for White man in Curaçao, some even say "tango"), but more African language groups have e.g. the “ng” sound (from the Kwa and Mande languages), or even have “bongo”-like words that have another origin. Just coincidence, as in some Mande-languages (Guinea area), “kongo” means “hunger”, but has nothing to do with the river or territory in Central Africa. <p>
It is true, though, that “ng” and “mb” are common sounds in several Bantu languages, and many retained African words in Caribbean creole languages with “mb” and “ng” are indeed of Bantu/Congo origin , also in Jamaican and other English-based creoles (“gunga” for pea, for instance). <p>
Also the word “Kaya” (for marijuana/weed) in Jamaican patois, known from the Bob Marley & Wailers album and song, is of Congo/Bantu origin, meaning something like “ leaves” or “plants”. This is significant as Africans of Congo region origin tended in several parts of the Americas be relatively knowledgeable about “healing plants” or herbs, probably due to the(rain) forested character of the Congo basin of their African roots. Slaves from the Guinea are came from more Savanna or steppe/Sahel environments, and those from Southern Nigeria, Ghana etc. somewhere in between (partly forested too, savannah’s). <p>
In Jamaica, therefore, the term “Bongo” is at times also used for a natural healer through plants, often at the same time an authentic Rasta man. Also, colloquially, I heard the mentioning of “Bongo” locks, apparently in reference to specific, thick dreadlocks on a Rasta man. So the term “Bongo” has gotten quite some use in Jamaican speech. A broad use, as well: used to refer to drums, as well as “a black man/African” or “Rasta man”. <p>
This translates in several Reggae lyrics of course: by Bob Marley and many others, often in combination with Natty (Bongo Natty). <p>
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This use is also found in other English Creole languages, such as in Trinidad. <p>
In Cuba, the term Bongó refers mostly – also in lyrics – to the well-known instrument (other terms exist to denote very Black or African people), although a similar word is found for another drum, in the Abakuá tradition: the Bonkó Enchemiya. This drum is a lot longer (and more conical) than the bongo drums – sounds therefore deeper -, but the name (as general term for “drum) might be related, the Abakuá tradition in Cuba stemming mostly from the Calabar region (border area Nigeria/Cameroun), close to Bantu-speaking areas. <p>
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<b>NAMES IN AFRICA</b> <p>
“Bongo”, thus, refers to Africa, but how concretely? The name of drums in Bantu languages (even if adapted), okay, but also ethnically and geographically? <p>
In fact, there are several geographic or ethnographic names of “Bongo” in Africa, in different countries. Sometimes a town and region, in N-Ghana, Ivory Coast, Angola, or a mountain range (CAR), and even a people in South Sudan, called the Bongo, speaking – you guessed it -the Bongo language. Again, this can be coincidence. <p>
Studies are as yet inconclusive, so it is hard to prove a direct link between, say, the provincial town Bongo (or Mbongo, but so pronounced) in Angola – unfortunately a main “ slave source” for especially the Portuguese and Dutch. It is probable, anyway. <p>
Bongo, a town and region in the far NE of Ghana - or the Bongo commune in SE Ivory Coast - could maybe have influenced its use in Jamaica, where many Akan/Ghanaian slaves ended up, though the enslaved Akan came from more to the South in Ghana, and had a different language family. <p>
Even the remaining possible origins are less improbable than one would think: stories and legends can travel far away between peoples, so possibly also about the Bongo people, related to Sudanic-speaking people like the Sara and Dinka, in South Sudan and Uganda, but not far from the DR Congo. Their culture is clearly African, and drum-rich. <p>
Sadly, the Bongo are as a culture and nation presently “endangered”. <p>
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Likewise, a Pygmy-related people in Gabon is also called Bongo, and are surrounded by Bantu. Bongo in Gabon are known as “forest people”, and speak the Bantu languages of their neighbours. They are also knowns as BaBongo, but the Ba-prefix means “people” in Bantu, similar to BaKongo. <p>
Fittingly, the BaBongo have a percussion-rich culture, and extra remarkable for this post, know instruments comparable to those known traditionally in Cuba, such as a clay jug blown within (a wind instrument), a lamellophone (like the marímbula in Cuba) and a friction instrument similar but lower than the Brazilian cuica (also rubbed from within the drum, as the cuica), similar in sound to one known historically among Afro-Cubans of Congo descent and in Palo, as well as to the Ekue in Abakuá. <p>
Thus, while descending from original “pre-Bantu” pygmy Africans – and not known whether some of them were enslaved and brought to the West, like their Bantu neighbours (not impossible), the Babongo culture surely is part of the Bantu cultural complex, also influential in Eastern Cuba. <p>
Further possible links, are the common ancestor name Mbongo in the oral tradition in (Bantu) Cameroon Sawa peoples, as well as a toponym in northern inland DR Congo. <p>
If these are direct links is unsure, the ones about the Mbongo town in central Angola (Huambo), or the ancestor name in Cameroon, seem somewhat more plausible, but regardless, the fact that the term Bongo recurs as name throughout Central Africa is telling. It is a very African word in sound, haha. <p>
Not surprisingly, the surname or family name “Bongo” or very similar ones (like Mbongo) are common in some African countries as well (Angola, DR Congo,Congo-Brazzaville, Gabon a.o.). <p>
<b>AFRICAN LANGUAGES</b><p>
Looking at linguistic use, apart from names, it becomes even more doubtful. There it is much more coincidence in certain cases, and maybe some historical/language family connection in other cases. <p>
The Bongo people in South Sudan call themselves that, with “Bongo” meaning simply “people” or “men”. They speak a Sudanic – not a Bantu language. <p>
Regarding the latter, that “bongo” means in Swahili – a widespread language mixing Bantu and Arab – “the brain”, is interesting. Again: an eventual link with the African Diaspora in the West is hard to tell, however, though not impossible. The new Tanzanian music genre Bongo Flava – actually a mix of local and international influences - is named after this, as Dar Es Salaam urban residents are known as “clever”, and the city as Ubongo: “brainland”. Some outside Tanzania call even the country as a whole (U)bongo, all from the Swahili for “brain”. Ubongo or Bongo thus became a kind of nickname among some for Tanzania. <p>
A link with drumming seems not apparent. Among the Yoruba people of SW Nigeria/Benin, also influential culturally through enslavement in Cuba, in music the “head” is associated with bell sounds, not drums. The latter represent “bodies”, perhaps due to the skin. The Bongó was, on the other hand, used musically as time-keeper in early Son in Eastern Cuba (the counting head?). <p>
In a relevant Bantu language, Lingala (DR Congo) , “bongo” means “exact”, which also raises questions, since Lingala is spoken in areas of Congo where many slaves came from. <p>
Perhaps relatedly, the meaning of “Bongo” in the Zulu language (a southern Bantu language) is "that’s it”. <p>
<b>ANTELOPE</b><p>
Finally, there is another known meaning of Bongo, even internationally, also prominent in Wikipedia, but here not mentioned yet. “Bongo” is the name for an animal, an African antelope (in Central, West, and parts of East Africa). Again, this can be a coincidence, but the name came supposedly from the Kele language in Gabon, a Bantu language. <p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAoOrVu39F0b6IzxNLETvg3nuYNf-wwE1gTwKKn9Szp6Z4F-2zblvMqLqjYCptTYsUQpOuOvlJYEUpQYbS4ERLpg9a3-rkGkPt4PVwr3JQgWXVJ5j5BcYPcJCjLejIzQglYIagMTIUyyzNrkc-2t4X-PIu2jlJ9gr1sLqL83NFsQ54Rx0_aJlBPUMu/s1024/Bongo%20antelope%20rocks.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAoOrVu39F0b6IzxNLETvg3nuYNf-wwE1gTwKKn9Szp6Z4F-2zblvMqLqjYCptTYsUQpOuOvlJYEUpQYbS4ERLpg9a3-rkGkPt4PVwr3JQgWXVJ5j5BcYPcJCjLejIzQglYIagMTIUyyzNrkc-2t4X-PIu2jlJ9gr1sLqL83NFsQ54Rx0_aJlBPUMu/s320/Bongo%20antelope%20rocks.jpg"/></a></div>
<p>
A possible quite indirect link is with the fact that antelope skin was and is used for drums in surrounding African cultures, but also skin of other animals. I have played an antelope-skinned drum once (the Kpanlogo drum from Ghana is an example), but these are thinner - with a softer sound - than those used for Bongos. For bongos the skin was originally calf or goat, donkey, later water buffalo (German bongo manufacturer Meinl uses buffalo skin, for instance), producing a different (harder) sound than possible with antelope skin. <p>
So at most there is just an indirect link with e.g. the Cuban bongó. <p>
Even if these were mainly indirect links - but still links! - with the African Diaspora uses, the common, widespread use of the “bongo” term in Africa, makes it as term distinctly and typically African, and thereby proving the point of its use in Cuba, Jamaica, or elsewhere. Asserting an own cultural identity, through word power. <p>At the same time, it reflects the struggle against colonial indoctrination as well as historical – and current! – Eurocentric ideological and technological dominance. <p>
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-58992532601050885602022-07-01T22:03:00.015-07:002023-12-05T09:14:54.286-08:00Long Walk To FreedomDespite its pollution by the pushy commercial nonsense now all too “bon ton” in the modern Western world, the term “must read” does – I think – apply to some books also genuinely and morally.
<p>
<b>HISTORICAL IMPORTANCE</b><p>
I am referring to historical importance. Books that even would improve mankind if more people had read them. One of those “must read” book in my opinion is the autobiography 'Long Walk To Freedom', by Nelson Mandela (pubished in 1994). A well-known historical figure, of international – perhaps even universal – appeal –, Mandela as subject goes way beyond activist “niche” markets with particular interests, for, say, Africa, or “the Black struggle”. <p>
Both these themes – Africa and the Black struggle – are of course more than “niche” interests, and in fact important to learn about global and human history for people of all races – in my opinion -, but are rather ignored compared to other themes. The white/European guilt complex about the colonial and slavery past explains this disinterest partly, as well as remaining racist and colonial notions. And material interests. Simply said: the US, Europe, but also Chinese, Japanese, or Arabs are economically too powerful to ignore (and just exploit). Africa unfortunately not yet so. <p>
<b>ANACHRONISM</b><p>
Still, despite this bias among some white or non-African people, the person Nelson Mandela breaks in a sense through barriers, even of relatively closed minds. The blatantly racist Apartheid system in South Africa lasted up the early 1990s, and was met with moral indignation more and more throughout the world, including among liberal whites. Seemingly a remnant of Europe’s colonial past, the harsh discrimination and violence seemed an immoral anachronism, as Western powers claimed to have become more civilized. <p>
In a superficial sense, Nelson Mandela became over time a welcome figurehead for the anti-Apartheid struggle for people worldwide, due to Mandela’s firm stance, yet also thoughtful, nonviolent, and dignified image. <p>
Leaving all this - superficial “images”, white guilt, and liberal self-congratulations – aside, I just considered it time for me to finally read this autobiography by Nelson Mandela. I knew about these memoirs before, but did not have the time to read them yet. I also thought I had learned over time roughly enough about South Africa from different sources: books and articles, but also first-hand accounts by a white friend, who told me he had to leave South Africa during Apartheid, for his relationship with a Black African woman. I saw some good documentaries about it too,.. and some not so good ones too. Likewise, some good movies, and some bad (read: “too Hollywood”) movies too. <p>
<b>KNOWLEDGE GAPS</b><p>
Still, there still were here subtle “knowledge gaps”. I am interested in persons, their life stories, especially of influential heroes and intriguing personalities like Nelson Mandela. Yet, admittedly, there were also some questions about that whole Apartheid period in South Africa I still had. I am relatively knowledgeable about colonial history – and African history - , but lack some knowledge about especially the recent history in South Africa. I thought this book could give me some answers. <p>
To start with: the book was a very good and pleasant read. I even forgot soon it was relatively voluminous (over 750 pages). There’s a Dutch expression that translates as “it reads like a train”, meaning: an easy, good read. These memoirs by Mandela did indeed “read like a train”. <p>
So did I learn new things? Yes, I did. Obviously about Nelson Mandela’s life story. I knew he was from the Xhosa ethnic group (some people might not even know that), speaking a pretty southern Bantu language (with clicks). He became more and more an opponent of racist colonialism forced upon his country South Africa by the British and other White colonizers, but first became a lawyer, also to help his people. Like with other people – and as is simply human -, his consciousness about the injustices grew over time. <p>
What I learned most from this autobiography were the political changes in South Africa itself. <p>
<b>NAZISM</b><p>
There is a protest song by African Reggae singer Alpha Blondy (hailing from Ivory Coast) titled Apartheid Is Nazism. This book taught me that this is not just metaphorical. Apparently, as Mandela explained, there was support and sympathy among the Afrikaners or Boers (White South Africans of mainly Dutch, Protestant descent) for Hitler’s Nazi regime in Germany in the 1930s/1940s. This went even beyond tensions between South African Whites of British or Boer/Afrikaner descent. South Africa was a British colony, in the commonwealth, and when Britain joined the allies in declaring war against Hitler Germany, South Africa automatically went along. <p>
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Yet, there was an opposing movement among some White Boers or Afrikaners in South Africa pleading for at least neutrality. Wars between Britain and the Boers have been fought, and this related to this, alongside conservative views. Well now, the Nasionale Partij (National Party) that established and expanded Apartheid in South Africa fully in 1948, was led by White Boers and Afrikaners, with leaders once openly supporting Nazi Germany, such as later prime-minister Vorster, who even went to prison for this stance. <p>
Another main architect of Apartheid and segregation, the Amsterdam-born Hendrik Verwoerd, also seemed to have such Nazi sympathies, and chose to study in then Nazi-influenced Germany. <p>
Links between Nazism and Apartheid continued, an example being the father of the now influential German billionaire Klaus Schwab, founder of the WEF, whose father was member of the Nazi party, and later worked with the Apartheid government/regime in South Africa. Some even note much similarities in the methods of Apartheid, especially “petty” daily-level policies – in the covid 19/corona pass “new normal” since 2020 – son Klaus Schwab seeks to promote, albeit now discriminating more on supposed medical grounds, than on racial grounds. Also, “lockdowns” became normalized since 2020, and are similar to control methods used by the Apartheid regime. <p>
Since Hendrik Verwoerd – known as the architect of Apartheid - was thus an Amsterdam-born Dutchman, this Nazi sympathy cannot be explained by the fact that the Boers/Afrikaners were also partly of German descent (besides mainly of Dutch, and some French Huguenot descent). Presumably, the racial hierarchy fitted the time, and colonial culture and interests. <p>
Identity and even more “ideology” after all almost always relate to “interests”, in my opinion. Delusional ideas about racial superiority and inferiority – and primitive ethnic pride – exist, but get mixed with colonial interests and properties, resulting in migrant whites treating indigenous Africans as burdens in their own country: insane, even psychopathic, but from this viewpoint explainable. They also defended their material interests and wealth.<p>
<b>FIGHT AGAINST APARTHEID</b><p>
Mandela relates it well and balanced, though. Though the strict Protestant Boers of mainly Dutch descent were largely to blame for the National Party’s Apartheid policy since 1948 (though tacitly supported by White Britons), the White British were before this also racist and colonialist, - and exploitative - as elsewhere in Africa, but more indirectly and subtly. The way the Boers-led National Party operated with its Apartheid policy had indeed strongly Fascist elements, with “democracy” (e.g. voting) only reserved for a minority of “superior” White people. The majority Black population was since around 1950 openly made second-class citizens, stripped of most human rights, and made dependent on White people.. Indeed, in their own country. They were segregated into separate Bantustans, with in name self-rule. <p>
Before 1950, discrimination of Africans was already there, including a “pass-system” restricting their free movement (not required for Whites), and an European bias in education and economy. <p>
This harshly racist Apartheid is what Mandela fought against, with the African National Congress (ANC) organization – already founded in 1912 -, in which he became a leading figure. Predictably – as he narrates in this book -, repression, harassment, oppression, and persecution of him by the White authorities ensued (bans, censorship, limited movement, arrests, spells of incarceration), ending up in the (well-known) long incarceration at Robben Island (near Cape Town) of Mandela, as a political prisoner, lasting from 1964 up to the 1980s. Since the late 1980s, Mandela was transferred to another, more comfortable prison on the mainland, as political changes seemed somehow to be on the horizon. International condemnation has increased by the Late 1987. Very hesitantly, by the way: and the hesitance of powers like the US under Reagan and the UK under Thatcher to condemn Apartheid more strongly was morally dubious. <p>
Indeed, the National Party government became by them more open for negotiations – especially as international sanctions were put in place (supported now by the US and the UK) -, which Mandela initiated on behalf of the ANC, toward his goal of multiracial democratization. <p>
This is “in a nutshell” the context of these memoirs, but I recommend people to read it fully, for it is very insightful, precisely because of the details and how Mandela relates it. It gives insight about an oppressive political system in South Africa, as well as human psychology. It also shows Mandela’s intelligence and open mind. <p>
<b>HUMANITY</b><p>
I noted through this book that Mandela indeed had an open mind, and was a good judge of character, placing humanity first. He commented on when white authoritative figures treated him rough and rude, but also when there were more reasonable or “kinder” people among them, only brainwashed too much in the system. He still kept hope due to the “glimmer of humanity” he even saw in guards in grim prisons he was in under Apartheid. <p>
In the final, more reflective part of this book, Mandela says it eloquently: “Man’s goodness is a flame that can be hidden but never extinguished”.. <p>
In a way, that’s the ultimate rebellion. Despite harsh personalized aggression and oppression keeping your sane mind and composure, allowing even compassion. Maintaining good sense, reason, and your “cool”, even when instability (“losing your mind”) seems understandable. That stability and firmness of character of course also makes a good leader. Not one to be easily blown away or weakened. Neither easily corrupted or bribed. <p>
Furthermore, Mandela maintained a love for all humanity, his account shows, which seemed sincere, and quite remarkable. Imprisoned since 1964 for decades until 1990, he states in this book that he through those years he learned to hate evil systems more than people.. even those working for/in it. Remarkable, as the cynical route of “I’ll be hard: after all, the world is against me..”, could be the choice of a lesser, less compassionate soul. <p>
More things I learned I can mention – without spoiling or giving a way too much of this very readable book – is the lying propaganda of the National Party, and how it claimed to fight “Communists”. It mainly used this label to “frame” opponents to their (Apartheid) policy, mostly unjustly, as dangerous rebels or terrorists. This included Mandela and the ANC. This proved effective to gain support of the then anti-Communist USA. <p>
Again the strength of character and wisdom of Mandela showed here. He did not consider himself a Communist, and above all certainly not opposed the National party on that ground: it was their racist Apartheid system he fought. Yet, Mandela explains how he studied aspects of Communism to examine its workability or possible usefulness, with an open mind. Never really embracing it, but neither excluding it in advance. He determined his own values. <p>
<b>ROBBEN ISLAND</b><p>
Mandela’s account on prison life at Robben island since 1964 was fascinating and educational. In broad lines, summarizing what being there does to a man – not always detailed – but evident nonetheless. <p>
Not everyone can imagine being for years locked up and at the mercy of guards, wardens and state, and throughout this unjust solitude, it seemed Mandela’s “hope” and firm stance kept his spirits up.. against all odds. <p>
Prison for political prisoners under Apartheid South Africa – and on Robben island - was meant not just to “lock away”, but rather to make an intimidating political “fascist” point as well. Much of the behaviour of wardens, such as strict rules, limited favours, and structural discrimination and humiliation, can also be described as “extreme bullying”. <p>
This could take “calculated” forms: easing of bans or prohibitions, extra favours granted (somewhat better food, study time, books, allowed to talk, a bit less work) were mostly conditional or temporary, and often wickedly compensated with new bothersome rules and limits. <p>
The discriminatory Apartheid system translated by the way on the small scale as well: Black Africans got lesser food in prison, compared to Coloureds (mixed-raced), or Indians.
Wisely, Mandela could see through all these evil games over the years, and somehow rise above it, keeping his focus on his ideals and principles, and a better future. <p>
These ideals were essentially positive, inclusive and antiracist: it emphasized equal individual rights for all South Africans (of all races), and the One Man One Vote principle. A far cry from the segregated racial inequality the Apartheid policy upheld, aimed at Black Africans’ dependence on Whites. <p>
The “Socialist-leaning” focus of the ANC was also multiracial, which conflicted a bit with other Black African resistance movements in South Africa at the time. In these memoirs, Mandela speaks for the ANC, while explaining how its “pro-Black, yet multiracial policy” would according to him be better than of the pro-ethnic African movements, such as the Pan-Africanist Congress (the PAC), that broke away from the ANC in 1959, having a more exclusionary Black Power stance. <p>
This PAC objected to ANC’s tight connections to Communists and White and Indian people (even if against Apartheid), they considered too undermining of the Black liberation and authorhisp. Mandela considered such stances immature, while being not much less radical. <p>
Radical, in that he never gave up violent resistance against the White apartheid regime. He thought this rebellion necessary for the time being, while preferring where possible peaceful means to overthrow it. <p>
<b>STRATEGY</b><p>
These memoirs are thus – largely – about socio-political “strategy”: how Mandela endured the oppression and incarceration only to keep his values and goals of a free, democratic, nonracial South Africa intact. This I find quite admirable: he gave his life for his nation and people. <p>
Being this “freedom fighter” – he resumes in the final part of the book – almost inevitably is at odds with a “common” stable private family life: a steady job, a present father, loyal husband, etcetera. He saw his children much less than he wanted when imprisoned, and though his love for Winnie Mandela was strong and guiding him, a practical “harmonious love life under one roof” hardly could develop with his life. He really gave his life for the struggle. <p>
“It seems the destiny of freedom fighters to have unstable personal lives”, as Mandela summarizes it in this book. <p>
<b>FINAL PART</b><p>
The final, more reflective part follows on Nelson Mandela’s final release from prison, and the victory since 1990, when Apartheid ended, and South Africa democratized since then, resulting in an electoral victory of the ANC. These include beautiful reflections full of wisdom, captured in some brilliant citations. Mandela e.g. writes (on the way forward after Apartheid): “to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others”.. <p>
The problem of violence among Africans (Zulu versus others) was a problem in South Africa regaining freedom, and Mandela relates how he assumed the National Party regime’s involvement, hoping to derail the changes through destabilization, and holding on to “White power” as long as possible. Again, through "divide and conquer".<p>
South Africa – while becoming free and democratic - all in all thus had a lot of crime and violence problems - along with remaining poverty among the masses - in the Early 1990s, when this book ends. <p>
I can add that I also learned through this book about other important individuals in the struggle against Apartheid, such as Oliver Tambo, longtime and respected leader of the African National Congress (when the ANC was banned after 1964, he was in exile in Lusaka). Mandela had a deep love and respect for this long-time friend and companion Tambo, resulting in deep grief at his quite sudden death, after a stroke, in 1993. This was not long after Mandela’s release. “It’s like I myself died a little bit”, he writes emotionally, also in this final part of the book. I felt that. <p>
Though these memoirs are about politics, they are thus certainly not “cold”. <p>
The only mild critique I can give is that “culture” does get much less attention than politics (strategy, freedom fighter) in this book. The differences between Zulu, Xhosa, and Sotho among the native Africans, or among the Whites (English or Afrikaans speaking) get less attention. <p>
I guess freedom fighters like Mandela cannot escape the Black-White dichotomy the Apartheid regime after all was based on – however nonsensical it is - , and that makes it understandable. <p>
Overall a must – or politer: “recommendable” - read, one can learn a lot from. <p>
<b>FINAL REFLECTIONS</b><p>
Though Amsterdam has a progressive image, the birthplace of Apartheid’s architect Hendrik Verwoerd – of who some say he “raped” South Africa – still has street names named after Boers/Afrikaners, recalling the British-Boer wars, and other parts of South Africa where the White Boers ruled and had wars. This was due to the historical Dutch-Afrikaner connection. <p>
The Transvaal is such a part of South Africa, and the neighbourhood with those street names is in Eastern Amsterdam therefore called “the Transvaalbuurt”, and before as “Afrikanerbuurt”. Maybe by today’s standards morally dubious and politically incorrect, but some streets have since been renamed after Black African freedom fighters: there is a Steve Bikoplein – plein is Dutch for “square” - there (which replaced the name Pretoriusplein), in that same part of Amsterdam, and an Albert Luthulistraat, however alongside several street names named after prominent Boers/Afrikaners, like Kruger. Besides this also more neutral South African geographical references, often related to Boer wars. No, like I said, not really politically correct in these times. <p>
Amsterdam is hardly alone in this, of course, with streets named after colonial figures in several European countries, and slaveowners on dollar bills in the US, or seeing the large monument to Columbus in a city like Barcelona (and his birthplace Genua, Italy), and many other statues of colonial “conquerors” in Spain, Portugal, Britain, and elsewhere. Not politically correct, and meeting occasional objections, but often still remaining. <p>
Interestingly – and symbolically -, there later came a Nelson Mandelaplein (square) in Amsterdam, but more to the South East: significantly a quarter with a majority of people of African descent (mainly Creoles from the former Dutch colony Suriname, and communities of Ghanaians and Nigerians). <p>
I think, however, that these memoirs show that Nelson Mandela was a moral model for all people, of whatever race, believing genuinely in equality, of all races, but also between sexes. As an example: his breaking up with Winnie Mandela in the final part of the book, he worded in respectful terms toward her. <p>
Above all: his wisdom and strategic, in essence positive and humanitarian, approach remains truly exemplary for all freedom fighters. This book showed that. <p>
<i>“Long walk to freedom: the autobiography of Nelson Mandela” (Abacus, 1994). – 768 p. – ill.</i>
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-37766075453083209052022-06-02T09:03:00.001-07:002022-06-02T10:24:39.395-07:00The Cajón and its spreadThe “cajón” is by now a well-known and internationally spread percussion instrument. Meaning “(big) box” in Spanish, the wooden box that is sat on while played, has its origins in Peru, among coastal Afro-Peruvians, the presence of boxes related to port activities, and taking on a “drum function”. Early records from around 1850 mentioned them already. <p>
Eventually, its design came to consist of a round hole in the back, for resonance. The types of woods for the surface came to be mostly rosewood for the playing surface, and a light spruce wood for the case: making it portable, and the different types of wood interacting adds to the tonality. <p>
From then on, in Peru, the interesting journey begun.. to quote from a Eric B & Rakim song sample (on Paid In Full): “this is a journey into sound”. <p>
The cajón’s short, staccato plywood sound apparently added sonic aspects beyond mere “drum copying”. In the early stages, among Afro-Peruvians, the cajón patterns followed more the Central African “straight rhythm” patterns, including call-and-response. The differing sounds (rim, higher, centre, bass, and hand use) enabled different tones. <p>
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Yet, it’s wooden, somewhat “shuffling” sound lent itself to more options too: more “around the beat” and “swinging”, as common in other traditions in Africa, like Senegambia/Guinee , but also in the Islamic world, South Europe, and the Middle East. <p>
<b>TRAVELLING INSTRUMENTS</b><p>
More instruments have interesting “travelling stories” that are worth knowing: it teaches us a lot about certain historical epochs and conditions, power relations, inequalities, etcetera. The mouth-organ/harmonica is of – hear this – German origin, reaching the US through German migrants, getting somehow in contact with African Americans, the latter liking its portability and relative cheapness.. and possibilities. Result: the common role of the harmonica in Blues. <p>
The common drum kit (snare, bass, cymbals) in Western pop originated as such in New Orleans, the acoustic guitar (with Persian/Moorish antecedents) in southern Spain, the cymbals in China, the Conga and Bongos in Cuba (with Central African antecedents), the saxophone was invented by a Belgian, as many may know, etcetera etcetera, and all these instruments spead internationally. <p>
What is interesting about these migrations of instruments throughout the world, and from culture to culture, I think, is the reason why they migrate in that particular manner, and to specific genres. Do they fit better? Other cultural connections? <p>
This is in fact a common, recurring theme in this blog of mine. I discussed how the originally Afro-Cuban “guiro” scraper became commonly used in Jamaican Reggae music. Afro-Cuban Congas ended up in even mainstream Jazz, Funk, and Soul in the US, for instance. <p>
As mentioned, the harmonica/mouth-organ travelled historically from Germany to the US From fanfare-like (South) German traditional music, to something very different: the African American Blues. <p>
<b>SPAIN</b><p>
The first international spread of the Afro-Peruvian “cajón” was different: namely to Spain, Peru’s erstwhile colonizer. This was through Flamenco artist Paco De Lucía, encountering and becoming enchanted by the cajón box, when in Peru in the 1970s. De Lucía said he almost immediately noticed, when played along with the guitar, that it fitted very well with Spanish Flamenco, and better than other percussion. <p>
This was due to the sound. The plywood/rosewood, staccato sound resembled the hand-clapping and “zapateo” (foot-tapping) in the Flamenco tradition, in fact sounding somewhat in-between clapping and zapateo/foot-tapping. <p>
Again the “shuffling” plays a role here, relating to the North-African “swinging”, meandering rhythmic structure influencing Flamenco. This is echoed also in, for instance, the Darbuka playing style in the Middle East and North Africa, and other (string) instruments: “around/toward” the beats, rather than straight on them (the latter more common more to the “polyrhythmic” south in Africa). <p>
Hide drums like congas, bongos, or djembes do less allow that shuffle, and offer more “rounded”, full sounds. Congas and bongos were and are used sometimes in Flamenco, but the cajón became much more successful, even to the point of being “incorporated” regularly. It took partly over the beating of rhythms for each Flamenco type on the guitar, and clapping/foot tapping, or combined with it. Its very sonic characteristics explain this suitability. <p>
Paco De Lucía’s percussionist, the Brazilian Rubem Dantas, incorporated the cajón by the mid-1970s, and from then it spread within wider Spanish Flamenco, with thus origins in a former colony of Spain, among people of African descent. Some ironies perhaps here, but also a nice, open influence between different cultures. <p>
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By now the cajón has been fully incorporated, almost normalized, within Flamenco music. <p>
In Spain, the instrument was adapted: strings were attached to the back for more resonance and a louder, “buzz” sound, being in part a Moorish influence, and other details also were changed. A distinct “flamenco cajón” type – with strings tied behind the surface - thus developed. <p>
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This route from Peru to Spain, and other parts of Europe, is only one of the journeys of the cajón, though. <p>
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<b>CUBA</b><p>
Cajones – wooden boxes - , once used for transport of goods, repurposed to be drummed (and sat) on are not unique to Peru. Similar cajones arose in Cuban port cities like Havana and Matanzas, when the Rumba music genre developed among Afro-Cubans, in the later 19th c.. “Rumba” itself was born from different influences from Africa and Afro-Cuban culture, including from drumming from the Congo region, from Yoruba patterns, and from the music from the Abakua secret societies, with origins among Efik people in the Cameroun/Nigerian frontier Calabar region in Africa. These influences translated to a percussion-dominated, call-and-response-based secular style known as Rumba in and around Havana and Matanzas in Western Cuba and beyond. <p>
Well now, historically, early urban Rumba in cities like Havana and Matanzas was played on wooden boxes, cajones, reportedly once used to import “bacalao” (cod, codfish) into Cuba. These had different sizes and functions, in threefold – an African retention. The biggest boxes had a bass function – like the later Tumba or Salidor conga, a middle one (Conga), and the higher pitched a “quinto” function, like later well-known Conga drums (called Tumbadoras in Cuba) similarly would come in 3 sizes and functions. <p>
In more rural areas of Cuba, “regular” hide drums like the Makuta (of Congo/Bantu origin) – a precursor to the later tumbadora or conga – tended to be used earlier in Rumba. The Rumba de cajón survived longer in port cities like Havana, but later also replaced mostly by what we know as Conga drums (called “Tumbadoras” in Cuba). <p>
There are still some Rumba groups in Havana using the cajón as part of their sets, often with conga drums, and other percussion instruments (bells, shekere). <p>
The Cuban cajón is of wood, but is in shape more toward a conga, and is usually played between the knees, rather than sat on, as the Peruvian one. <p>
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The history of these Cuban cajones seem to have no direct relation to the Afro-Peruvian cajones, logistically that is, though culturally they can be seen as “cousins”. Though once both Spanish colonies, the route from Peru’s Pacific coast to the northern Caribbean port of Havana was far from direct or easy: the Panama canal still had to be built. <p>
<b>CONGO</b><p>
Apart from the Spanish colonial connection, the cajones in Peru and Cuba do share an African cultural connection too, though, such as in Congo/Bantu African patterns, and some other African retentions as well. <p>
Origins of enslaved Africans in the West could differ somewhat from colony to colony, but the “Congo” origins are quite evenly spread, connecting this African diaspora largely musically. Therefore, Cuban-based Salsa, and Cuban Son, Rumba, and Brazilian Samba have musically in part evident Central African “Congo” origins, but to somewhat smaller degrees also Afro-Peruvian, Dominican, Haitian, Colombian, Curaçaoan, and Jamaican music genres. This Congo influence was noticeable also in the earliest playing styles of the cajón by Africans in Peru, in the 19th c.: straight rhythms, call-and-response, etcetera, etcetera. <p>
So saying: ”the cajón as instrument originated in Peru” is in itself true, but too simple. A separate origin was there for other cajones in Cuba, and elsewhere in Latin America. <p>
In Afro-Cuban Rumba, as mostly among Afro-Peruvians, the style of playing was more on straight rhythms and involving call-and-response – like a set of hand drums or conga’s. This was altered later toward a more “swinging”, meandering playing style, adapted to guitar-dominated Flamenco in Spain. <p>
<b>FLAMENCO</b><p>
Nonetheless, compared to most other European music genres, South Spanish Flamenco is still relatively “rhythmic”, also in light of the structural place of basic rhythms for each Flamenco style, hand-clapping, tapping on the guitar, and the castanets used in Spanish traditional music (and some forms of Flamenco too). <p>
Furthermore, the guitar playing style in Flamenco is relatively percussive. In time, Afro-Cuban influences came back to Spain via travelers, bringing the Guaracha and other Cuban rhythms, influencing a new type of Flamenco, called somewhat mistakenly (Flamenco) Rumba (another genre), but in reference to Cuban rhythmic influences. Some music historians – such as Robert Farris Thompson – point at earlier rhythmic influences; Moorish/North African ones, but also of Black Africans in Seville, being there since Moorish times, around the 10th c. AD (initially as slaves), influencing Flamenco’s rhythmic “syncopation”, after all quite unusual in European music. <p>
Into all these Flamenco traditions, the cajón fitted very well. <p>
<b>REASONS</b><p>
Therefore, one can say that the cajón has also an interesting, international history behind it. Some relate the origins, by the way, to the forbidding of hand drums – for fear of rebellion – by colonial authorities, and that the boxes at ports became replacements. There were such prohibitions in Spanish colonies from time to time, and even after it, such as in 1915 in Cuba, when public African drum use was for a period forbidden. Cuba was then semi-independent under US control (Spain lost the Spanish-American war in 1898, and with it Cuba as colony to the US), but Eurocentric repression continued regularly, both by Hispanic and Anglo-Saxon authorities. Some racist policies similar to US Southern states even reached Cuba then, including racial segregation, though with differing intensity, and proving less applicable in the more mixed context of Hispanic Cuba. <p>
Colonial prohibitions of African hand drums thus play a role in the cajón boxes developing – also in Peru -, historians point out, but also convenience, arising after all in port cities where cargo and many boxes arrived. Besides: the drumming on boxes - as alternative to hand drums - would neither please the authorities very much, while the exploiting bosses wanted the workers to work, I imagine, ha ha. <p>
Actual hand drums of animal skin, required certain skills to manufacture, explaining why hand drums (eventually resulting in what we know as Conga’s) entered Cuban Rumba first in rural areas, whereas urban port areas as Havana wooden boxes were used longer in Rumba, before replaced by animal-hide drums. <p>
<b>COMPARABLE INSTRUMENTS</b><p>
Always interesting is to ask how unique the cajón as instrument is, and are there similar – if not identical – instruments. <p>
Square drums one can sit on have been known historically, sometimes as large frame drums, even in Ancient Egypt, and in Africa. Mostly, though, drums tended to be round, and even the square ones developing had animal skin as surface, rather than wood. The Gumbeh drum in Ghana and Sierra Leone – and among Maroons in Jamaica, and elsewhere in the Caribbean – is sat on, like the cajón – and with some playing similarities (using also the heel of the foot, to mute), but sounds different. <p>
Drumming and percussion in sub-Saharan Africa – even of wooden instruments, like the Krin or Ekwe log drum – tend to be sharper and rounder, fitting polyrhythmic functions. The wooden Spanish castanets also sound sharper and different. In playing style, Guinee-area Africa and North Africa, and in the Middle East have some instruments with sonically similar “shuffling” and “swinging” characteristics, in relation to dominant string instruments in Islamic-influenced cultures. The bendir frame drum (with an attached string on the back, like with the Flamenco cajón), common in North Africa, such as among the original Berber/Imazigh population – shares a ‘buzz” feel in the sound with that cajón, as in some sense the way the Darbuka is played in the Islamic world. <p>
<b>CONCLUSION</b><p>
All in all, also the originally Afro-Peruvian Cajón has an intriguing history, revealing different rhythmic traditions within Latin America, Africa, and the Mediterranean basin, and cultural influences. <p>
Its suitability for these different types of rhythms made the cajón over time internationally popular, and widely used in various genres, even in Western pop or rock here and there, in India, in Brazilian music, in Blues and Jazz, but most – as explained – in Spanish Flamenco, wherein it interestingly gained a solid place. <p>
Yet, having heard the original string-less Afro-Peruvian cajón’s dry beats, I must admit that I – being a percussionist - like this “dry” sound, slighty different from the later “rounder” Conga drum sounds, but comparable in sharp poignancy, that I like in polyrhythmic African-based “straight rhythm” music. From “dry” and groovy in Peru, the cajón became more “fluid” in Flamenco, but that also has an unique appeal, and embellished many Flamenco songs. <p>
How a wooden box became culture.. More beautiful even: became a way of creative resistance of the oppressed, through culture. <p>
In addition, of course, also an early example of “recycling”.. <p>
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-78770847185599150972022-05-03T21:54:00.006-07:002022-05-04T09:10:00.341-07:00China: culture or politics?
China is now considered a global power. <p>
Global powers are – indeed – global in impact, with economic power influencing virtually the whole world. One can argue that the whole concept has historical precedents, only in different forms and reach, from Mesopotamia, Babylon, to Egypt, Rome and its empire, Arab conquests, and European colonialism. More recently, the USSR and US. Powers absorbing and conquering others, with a disproportional impact on world affairs. <p>
<b>GLASS</b><p>
China has historically always been powerful, but also rather isolationist in a sense. The famed Chinese wall being a symbol of that. Its economic power of yesteryear did a period compete with the Western world, until one invention/discovery by the West: crystal or glass. This in turn allowed development of telescopes, glasses for people, chemical reactions, and also e.g. electronics, based on glass. It gave the West a competitive edge over China, also a technological one, that it long has maintained. <p>
The influence of China was culturally dominant in a large part of East Asia (incl. Japan), but remained seemingly inward-looking. There still was in history “expansionism” too, though, throughout the different imperial periods of China. <p>
The competitive edge of the West over China since, simply said “glass”, could only recently be questioned, in modern (post-imperial) times: the Chinese republic was followed by a Communist state, that with some setbacks, in a ruthless manner, became a world power. <p>
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<b>MAO</b><p>
Mao Zedong epitomized that in the early stage, being a fascinating figure all in all. Contrary to popular myth, it was not Adolf Hitler who had one testicle/ball: it was another dictator who liked killing: namely Mao Zedong. It was never reported in Hitler's medical reports, so not the case, but probably a joke about a cruel dictator somehow overcompensating for having only one testicle. <p>
In a sense this still applies, as Mao was certainly cruel and murderous in ruling, although his ideals seemed on paper more humane and positive: social equality versus Germanic superiority. Besides lacking one testicle, Mao was also relatively tall for a Chinese person, by the way, enabling more psychological theorizing. <p>
<b>CORPORATISM</b><p>
The effect, anyway, the centralist Chinese state – mixing Marxist ideas with ingrained Chinese Confucian and Taoist (albeit adapted to the regime’s benefits and goals) values of obedience and family – became powerful. In time it incorporated capitalism and modernity with this centralist state approach. In reality, this shared remarkable similarities with Mussolini’s Fascism, started in Italy in the 1920s. <p>
Probably as a way to end stifling “class struggle” in Italy, Mussolini made “corporatism” an important building stone of Fascist state rule: big capital (commercial companies) aligning with the state in controlling the masses/people. A first step toward totalitarianism, that in Italian society back then could be largely, but not fully implemented – though Il Duce Mussolini and his Fascist clique might have wanted that – due to the unorganized and “loose” structures of Latin/Catholic culture, characterizing Italy then. <p>
It was attempted, though. My Italian father – born in the 1930s, once told me that he started going to school as a child during the last years of Mussolini’s rule (internal strive already started develop, and WW II in process), and had to give the Fascist greeting in a strict Italian school setting. This stopped with democracy after 1945. <p>
<b>TOTALITARIANISM</b><p>
Hitler and the Nazi’s were more successful in establishing a “full” totalitarian state in Nazi Germany – influenced by Italian Fascism. Hitler named Mussolini as one of his inspirers. From school curricula, to local councils: the Nazi doctrine was supposed to shape all Germans mentally. Fascist corporatism mixed with racial and racist ideas of Northern Germanic, Aryan superiority, with partly roots in colonialism and separate sources, such as old German resentments and despise of Jews and Gypsies, or even the ridicule of neighbouring European peoples like Slavs, Celts, and Latins. <p>
Especially the anti-Semitism became vicious, as is known, as well as the anti-gypsy policies, resulting in a mass genocide by Nazi Germany of especially Jews and Gypsies (Roma) in their occupied territories, as is widely known. <p>
Such aspects of supposed cultural (or racial) superiority are historically recurring of course, with differing degrees of “totalitarianism”. It also recurs in China, especially today. <p>
China’s Communism turned totalitarian/corporatist, some say, a “surveillance state”, adapted to modern technology (cameras, computer technology), but to repress and control the masses, and keep the central state power as absolute as possible, and obedience intact. Like in Nazi Germany, this totalitarianism was and is now “successfully” applied. The supposed superiority is now based on an ideology. <p>
The cases of repressed culture in Tibet and the Uygurs (and other minorities in China), however, show that a Han Chinese sense of (ethnic) superiority is also there, despite ideological rhetorics. <p>
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<b>CULTURE AND POLITICS</b><p>
This lends itself to some interesting reflections on the relationship between culture and politics. The recent corona “pandemic” crisis showed this contradiction on a global scale. Not all people realized or saw this, since many were fooled into thinking it was actually a dangerous pandemic, and not – what it actually was – a “pLandemic”. <p>
Some saw in those corona policies a type of global communism, China-style. Despite an obvious Chinese connection – the Wuhan lab - I consider it more capitalist-totalitarian and Western (in light of the WEF, Gates, and Fauci, being involved), and moreover: China is neither really Communist, but rather capitalist-totalitarian. <p>
Culture in the end is stronger than politics, though it can be repressed. I experienced first- hand how Communism was applied in Cuba, in the Caribbean. A totalitarian control, including “snitching” on a neighbourhood level , seemed even to work there. Yet, there was also a way to get around it. <p>
I do not know whether the latter is the case in China too: ways to get around it, flexibility in practice. The culture of obedience is supposedly much stronger there, although Cuba’s history of colonialism and slavery might have shaped such a passivity, albeit partly. <p>
The “social credit” system in China, results from a cynical use of modern computer and internet technology, to control the masses’ behavior. It fights against all individuality, or individual deviance. <p>
<b>INDIVIDUALISM</b><p>
This is a difference with Cuban communism. Some Protestants say that “individualism” arose with the Reformation: when Christians could read and interpret the Bible themselves, before it not allowed by the Catholic Church. <p>
That is too simplistic. The creative ways of expressing one’s individuality have always existed, and even been the norm, within Catholic contexts, even if espoused otherwise. <p>
Even during slavery in the Caribbean, Africans found ways to maintain their culture, even when not allowed. Spanish colonizers in Cuba allowed some cultural organizations for Africans, but even outside of that, more covert, African culture lived on. <p>
The rich and varied musical legacy of Cuba is a testimony to this free spirit. <p>
<b>CONTROL</b><p>
This “escaping state control” seems harder now in the computer and Internet age, and indeed China has a tradition of collectivism and popular obedience to authorities. At least, that is what is said. <p>
This is only relative, and can only be, in my opinion. This is because I argue that culture is stronger than politics, even if the latter is aided by modern technology. People want love, enjoyment, relaxation, fulfillment, be pleased, and fun. Everywhere. <p>
That “collectivist” sense in parts of Asia is in part an urge for “harmony” and security within a community, citizens may find relaxing or pleasing when knowing no better. It relates according to some to Confucian and Taoist ideas, - called “wu wei” – ingrained in Chinese culture, emphasizing from some perspective “inaction”, “passivity”, respect for elders, and “detachment of desires”.. but this is of course terribly simplified.. <p>
I think the Chinese Communist Party, however, only brought tension among most Chinese with their “social control” policies. Just like I have not encountered one Cuban in Cuba who liked to be controlled. Some went along with it, or even “snitched” to authorities, because their job or livelihood depended on it, but no one really wanted such a system. Let alone the culturally oppressed and repressed Tibetans, and other minorities (including religious ones) in China, or – I contend – most Chinese citizens. <p>
Also, the Communist regime (Derg) that, in 1975, overthrew Emperor Haile Selassie in Ethiopia, and with that ended the ancient monarchy in Ethiopia, was no mass improvement. It substituted a – perhaps - archaic institution (an absolute monarch), that at least did not interfere with people’s lives, replacing it with Marxist totalitarian control over citizen’s lives at Ethiopian local levels. Even the Communist promise of education, social equality, and economic improvement in Ethiopia proved in balance not beneficial: more and larger famines were reported in Ethiopia after 1975 than during Selassie’s reign, and ethnic and other strives and conflicts (latently there) only increased with this stronger, interfering Communist state. Even with some benefits (e.g., food provision, egalitarian measures), common Ethiopian citizens did not want too much “top down” state control, and preferred to live their life and culture in their own way. <p>
<b>FREEDOM</b><p>
Despite appearances, I think that what applies to Cuba and Ethiopia, also is the case for most Chinese citizens, though many may be hesitant to admit it. This admitting and self-realization takes time. Just like some only after about two years came to realize that “lockdowns” (also before this a common policy tool in China, by the way), and that entire corona policy, might not be appropriate in free, democratic societies, for such a relatively mild virus, and that some other goals may hide behind it. <p>
Freedom and independence seeking values may be more in the culture of Cubans (Afro- and Hispanic-) or Ethiopians historically, but are somewhere within most Chinese too, I contend. Also within most Europeans/North Americans, even if too many let themselves so passively be deceived by the corona plandemic hype, and accompanying fear-mongering. The search for freedom is, simply, too universal and human to be repressed long. In the end, I opine, people will want to break free. <p>
In that sense, the recent “total lockdown” (in April 2022) of the city of Shanghai, because of a few corona cases, is the peak of absurd totalitarian wickedness. Millions of people in this big city were forcibly locked down in their own house, strictly limited in their movements, by the state and its forces. This is Fascism, even more than Communism. <p>
It also is – in another sense – capitalism. State capitalism or corporatism, one can also call it. Shanghai is a crucial economic hub in China and the world, and the world’s biggest port. People with a flu (virus) might not work so hard, or at all temporarily, and slave masters want their slaves - exploited labourers - after all to be healthy, but not free.. <p>
Freedom is a road, seldom travelled by the multitude.. But it should.. (and that rhymes, ha!). <p>
<b>COLLECTIVISM</b><p>
The cultural aspect of “collectivist” values in China, comes more to the fore when one considers the “capitalist” parts of China: Taiwan, Hong Kong, known for big manufacturing industries. “Made in Taiwan” has become economic cliché. <p>
Someone I know well, a woman from the Philippines, settled later in the Netherlands with a Dutch citizen. She met him in a Taiwanese company (based in the Netherlands), that she already worked for in Taiwan, relating about harsh, “modern slavery” conditions: not allowed to leave a terrain, rough manners, extreme demands, no longer accepted (formally) in Western companies. The blatant disregard and lack of consideration for individual labourers/workers could be related to Chinese culture (collectivistic) – and its lack of democratic tradition -, she found, also differing from the Philippines. Her Netherlands partner, she met in the Taiwanese company based in the Netherlands, I know well too, and he told me how he was truly shocked by the bad manners and demeaning treatment he received, provoking in him so much anger, that he found it hard to control himself against the rude bosses, but contained himself, needing the job and income then. <p>
This disregard and lack of respect for individual needs is thus found in both Chinese communist (China) and capitalist contexts (Taiwan, Hong Kong). A collectivistic culture of obedience, characterizing China historically, to a large degree might explain it. Still, there is more to it, I argue. <p>
<b>MATERIALISM</b><p>
These "isms” (communism, capitalism) are ideological, yet also materialistic. In fact, “materialism” is the overriding category of both. <p>
The “egalitarian” goals of Marxism and Chinese communists by Mao Zedong c.s. seem more humane, that the “profit maximalizing” exploiting capitalism represents. Both deny, however, individuality. Their materialism also denies true “spirituality” which in a sense is related to individuality. <p>
Mao Zedong said to the Dalai Lama in the 1950s (when the Chinese started to conquer Tibet more) “religion is poison”. Tibet was then extremely religious – Buddhist -, with many religious festivals, and structures, determining the whole society, with a large proportion of the male population e.g. being trained for Buddhist “monks”. <p>
Was it really just “religion” though - an institute and ideology -, and not just as much spirituality - a culture -, guiding Tibetan life and culture, that Chinese government forces sought to repress or destroy since the later 1950s? About 85 days of a year were up to then taken up by various religious festivals in Tibet, of an own Buddhist nature, before the Chinese communist take-over. These were all then banned by the atheist Chinese government. <p>
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<b>DEHUMANIZATION</b><p>
It is here that the “culture versus politics” question becomes more complex. <p>
Common labourers at the bottom of societies suffer in all isms. Fascism, capitalism, and communism. <p>
I structure my values partly by sincere, eye-opening conversations I had during my life with close ones, apart from own experiences of course (and reading good works). My mother (growing up under the Franco regime in Spain, a more or less Fascist regime) told me several times, often sadly, that she felt she was only meant to be a “slave” working - under harsh, demeaning conditions - as labourer in Francoist Spain, for bosses who were generally Franco supporters, reaching positions often through nepotism. Little freedom or respect for individual rights there, especially for the poor and powerless. <p>
An ex-girlfriend of mine in Cuba, living then under Castroist Communism, said – also sadly – something similar: “they treat me like a slave”, with much compulsory extra work, e.g. agricultural harvesting in rural Cuba, as part of the national plan economy, also for people already working as teachers with a degree, as she did. Added to usual working hours, and compulsory. Often even uncompensated (perhaps some food items). She being mainly of African descent, made her use of the term “slave” extra painful, in light of Castro’s Cuba propaganda of “improving the position of Afro-Cubans”. In what way, improving? <p>
All those materialist “isms” disrespect individuality, the own human “spirit”, which expresses itself in culture, replaced by a cold, dehumanizing view on humans, needing to fit in an unnatural and unequal economic ideology. As I sing in one of my songs: “ideology is not humanity”. <p>
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One can argue, thus, that historical “collectivist” and “obedience” cultural values of “harmony” in Chinese culture, have been hardened and “coldened” by these dehumanizing “isms”. <p>
The totalitarian regime now in place in China, therefore has ironically ideological similarities with Western elites, such as those joined in the World Economic Forum, and the wealthiest 2% in all Western countries, the Rockefellers, Bill Gates etcetera, often family fortunes going back generations with large capitalist enterprises, or even to colonialism, as the origin of “multinationals” (e.g. Shell) goes back to colonial times. That the father of founder of the “club of wealthiest people” in this world, the WEF, the German Klaus Schwab, was an influential active member of the Nazi party is telling in itself. <p>
Marxism, in theory, countered that capitalist exploitation, but within the same collectivist, materialist value system. It’s all about the money, still. <p>
This same dehumanizing value system oddly suddenly “normalized” totalitarian, undemocratic policies, earlier practiced in China, also in Western nations, during that Covid “plandemic” since 2020. Lockdowns, curfews (in some countries last imposed under Nazi rule!), non-working (obligatory!) face masks, even obligatory “vaccination”/MRNA injection in some countries, unconstitutional yet structural discrimination of unvaccinated, etcetera.. all attacking and damaging free culture, medical freedom, bodily integrity, gathering, and small businesses, in other words: individual humanity. <p>
The unholy, unhappy “social credit” system for citizens, in practice for some time now in a large part of China, treating citizens like children or even animals, is even experimented with – to degrees – now in some parts of Europe: Bologna and Rome in Italy, Bavaria in Germany. A cheap shot, maybe, but also countries with Fascist/Nazi pasts. <p>
However, I am quite sure that the free individual spirit, indestructibly inherent in humans, will eventually want to break free from this, to return to “free culture” and “free spirituality”. There and everywhere. <p>
The shocking footage I saw recently of people locked up in their apartments above sinister empty streets in Shanghai under state-enforced “covid” lockdown (for a relatively mild flu virus) – almost like animals in stables in industrial farms -, and the desperate screaming I heard from the houses, exemplifies this struggle, and this dehumanizing injustice. <p>
It also should be a warning sign for most reasonable and decent people in this world: this dehumanizing totalitarianism is not what we want (anymore), nowhere in the world. <p>
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-25487743672563481362022-04-02T19:36:00.014-07:002022-12-31T10:05:44.983-08:00TabbyThere is real grief and sadness when there was real love. That explains why you really feel the loss when someone important in your life passes away. <p>
Evidently, this is strongest with loved or related ones, or when in an intimate relationship, like a close friend or direct relative. Yet, it can also go beyond that. <p>
The sad loss of Jamaican reggae singer Donald “Tabby” Shaw, of the legendary Mighty Diamonds band (active since 1969), recently, is an example of the latter. It also is an example of the “sudden shock”, as it was due to gunshots from a car, thus a murder. So unfair, so shocking.. all the more since there were images of Tabby Shaw dancing, enjoying himself on music in what seems an outdoor party, only minutes before the fatal shooting. This took place in Waterhouse, a part of Kingston, Jamaica. <p>
A long sickbed, or a longer period in the hospital awaiting the inevitable end is - even with some hope - of course not pleasant, but it has the benefit of mental “preparation”, a more gradual adaptation, moderating the trauma and strain on the brain. The sudden death of Tabby Shaw is, however, much more impactful, shocking, and traumatic. <p>
Especially, but not only for people who knew him well personally. As a singer with a great voice, much musical talent, and as the voice of the legendary Mighty Diamonds, Tabby Shaw was a musical legend himself. Gifted with a beautiful, soulful voice, his talent reached beyond that to songwriting. While the Mighty Diamonds members wrote songs alternately or together – and many were written by other members – Tabby could sing them as they should, getting the best out of a song: making you feel it. <p>
I myself consider myself a Mighty Diamonds fan, for years now, so I am genuinely saddened by this loss. You might even say that his, Tabby’s, voice, and the Mighty Diamonds songs, were one of the soundtracks of my life. <p>
I am not being too dramatic, when I think that I got through certain periods in my life better and happier because of the Mighty Diamonds - and with that Tabby’s voice, being in most cases the lead singer of the Mighty Diamonds songs. <p>
I remember I went some years regularly to Cuba (around 2004), bringing along the Mighty Diamonds great Deeper Roots album, at the end being the one I played most, even out loud. Many Cubans got to hear this type of Reggae because of this, and many seemed to like it, especially with those good grooves. Somehow it still fitted within the Caribbean Cuban son and rumba surroundings. I went mostly to Santiago de Cuba in SE Cuba, known as the "most Caribbean" part of Cuba, where Marcus Garvey' UNIA movement had many departments, once, by the way, partly among Jamaican migrants, so that also played a role: the Mighty Diamonds devoted several good songs to the Black emancipation leader Marcus Garvey.<p>
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<p>
In my home in Amsterdam, Netherlands, I further listened regularly several Mighty Diamonds albums, so you can call me a fan. Even their later, “modern-sounding”, Dancehall-influenced – but still “Rootsy” albums from the 1980s and 1990s I liked. Good songs, good music and riddims. <p>
There was also a certain “liveliness” or “jolliness” about most Mighty Diamonds’ songs, often with party-like vibes, proving uplifting. The better drumming and percussion, along with the “jolliness” made me personally a bigger fan of the Mighty Diamonds, than of, say, Midnite/Akae Beka, who also have many fans. But that is my personal taste.. You can be intense without being gloomy or boring, is all I say. Tabby’s singing with the Diamonds showed that joyful intensity. <p>
The lyrics of the Mighty Diamonds could have a party or love vibe, but often were “conscious” and Rastafari-inspired, like Akae Beka’s, only on another level, perhaps more concrete and daily in “social comment”, compared to the more abstract level, Vaughn Benjamin brought listeners to. <p>
<b>THE SCENE</b><p>
I devoted another <a href="http://michelconci.blogspot.com/2019/11/tribute-to-vaughn-benjamin-from.html">blog post</a> of mine to Akae Beka’s Vaughn Benjamin, following his untimely, for many unsuspected death. I noted that Akae Beka had many fans in the Netherlands Reggae scene – including in Amsterdam, where I reside -, and often “passionate” fans at that. <p>
This sudden death of Tabby Shaw received likewise much attention, and was met with sadness in the Netherlands reggae scene. Justly, he and the Mighty Diamonds have many passionate fans too, and for many in the scene, Tabby was also a “veteran”, “icon”, or “legend”. <p>
Some Dutch musicians and promoters worked with Tabby and the Mighty Diamonds, such as Michelle Boekhout Van Solinge of the Black Star Foundation, once arranging a show of the Mighty Diamonds with Ijahman Levi (show!).. I can’t recall if I was there, but I should have been, haha. <p>
Michelle also met Tabby several times in Jamaica, mostly professionally, with as tangible result the backing vocals by the Mighty Diamonds on Amsterdam-based artist Leah Rosier’s song All Over The World. <p>
Tabby and the Diamonds have played with several Netherlands-based musicians, even on international stages (Rototom festival in Spain, in 2018), including among others the experienced Freddy Poncin on drums. That is a challenge for these non-Jamaican musicians, since the Mighty Diamonds always had quality musicianship – real Jamaican Reggae – including the likes of Sly & Robbie, Dean Fraser, and (a special interest of mine) often nice added, varied percussion. <p>
In the café called Jamaica Lounge in Amsterdam – not far from the part of Amsterdam where I live - , Jimbo, its Jamaican owner, told me he remembered the Mighty Diamonds from his youth in Jamaica, calling them “legends”, and describing their popularity. One of the first discs he ever bought, he told me, was a 12 inch (or “45”) of the Mighty Diamonds (feat. U Brown), costing then One Jamaican Dollar 30. Last time I went to Jamaica, a bag of a few grams of weed - enough for one big spliff, or 2 small joints – tended to cost about 1 US Dollar.. I had to think of this for some reason, when Jimbo told me of that price (1,30 Jamaican dollar for a 12 inch).. It’s however hard to compare. <p>
I have seen several live performances of the Mighty Diamonds in Amsterdam, and elsewhere, having fond memories of them, sensing the quality music, and their particular strength: good vocal harmonies, and soulful vocals by Tabby. Valuable memories that cannot be taken away. <p>
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<b>
PERSONAL TRAYECTORY</b><p>
I got into Reggae around my 11th year (1980s), and it took some time for me to get into the Mighty Diamonds.. In that stage, the “rougher” and mystical sounds/vibes of other Reggae bands like the Wailing Souls, Burning Spear, the Twinkle Brothers, or singers like Ijahman, attracted me more. This was perhaps due to the sophisticated and smoother (Philly/Motown) “soul” influence on the Mighty Diamonds, having myself just left a “soul” period (when I listened to e.g. Stevie Wonder). I wanted a change from that. <p>
However, as I got to know more songs of the Mighty Diamonds, and started to pay attention to technical musical and vocal aspects, I appreciated them more and more. The voice of Tabby I liked, as well as the delicate, sophisticated harmony vocals. This differed from the vocal “call-and-response” focus of what is called “country” style Roots: bands like Culture, the Itals, the Twinkle Brothers, or the Wailing Souls. These bands also had great, intelligent harmonies, besides the call-and-response, but a bit “rougher”. Don’t get me wrong: I love “call-and-response”, so common in Black/African music, both as vocal as rhythmic (percussive!) aspect.. the Mighty Diamonds just elaborated more this very (originally African) call-and-response principle with their harmony vocals. In that sense, a bit similar to the Abyssinians, with likewise elaborate harmonies. <p>
I liked most of the Mighty Diamonds albums, Deeper Roots (1979) - from a good period and studio (Channel One) - perhaps most, Right Time (1976) was a classic, and even an album that was considered a “flop”, even by the Mighty Diamonds themselves, Ice On Fire, following on the classic rootsy Right Time (1976) album, I enjoyed. It was a move to the US, to work with New Orleans musicians., maybe in response to the Black US “Soul” influence on the Diamonds. For many Reggae fans – expecting Roots like on the album Right Time before it - it was disappointing how US New Orleans musicians tried to approach Reggae wrongly, with some vague New Orleans R & B feels on this Ice On Fire album. The soulful singing of Tabby, and again quality harmony vocals, kept even this album listenable though, in my opinion. <p>
Spread throughout their albums, the Mighty Diamonds had many, many good Reggae songs, some even classic ones, with Tabby Shaw’s beautiful singing, that will stand the test of time, due to their enduring quality. The flesh might die, but this music lives on. <p>
<b>AFTERMATH</b><p>
The fatal shooting was such a sudden, ugly death, that it naturally had a shock effect, including on many fans like me. In the days after Tabby’s death, more speculation arose, linking the drive-by shooting not (just) to a sad coincidence, but actually a (criminal) retaliation. Some (Jamaican) sources mentioned the involvement in crime of Tabby’s son, actually being accused of homicide. The retaliation would relate to this, some think, explaining its uncommunicative, nasty execution. “<i>Vindictive feelings ain’t appealing</i>”, as Max Romeo sings on One Step Forward. <p>
If this is true , it’s sad that Tabby’ son went “wayward”, so to speak, especially in light of Tabby’s positive lyrics, at times also lambasting crime. All kinds of social problems relate to this choice for a life of crime of course, but still a pity. <p>
Another sad passing of another Mighty Diamond member got known too a few days after, the 1st of april of 2022: of Bunny Diamond (Fitzroy Simpson), mostly a harmony singer with the band, but a good songwriter too. In this case, he had a long illness (diabetes), and even could not perform often with the band, the last years. Still, he left his positive mark: vocally and writing several great songs for the band. The song Bodyguard is e.g. written by Bunny Diamond, but sung by lead singer Tabby.. <p>
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Bodyguard was a later “hit”, while earlier classic hits in Jamaica and the Reggae world were the beautiful I Need A Roof, Right Time, Have Mercy, and of course Pass The Kutchie. The latter is probably also their internationally best known song, due to the cover (sans-ganja reference) by the British Musical Youth, with Pass The Dutchie. Only knowing Pass the Kouchie – however – serves no justice to the great artistry the Mighty Diamonds with their song book represented. <p>
Some of my personal favourite Mighty Diamonds songs (other fans might have others): <p>
-Africa <br>
-Blackman<br>
-Be Aware<br>
-Cat O’Nine<br>
-Red Tapes<br>
-Shabby Raggy<br>
-I Don’t Want Any Crumbs<br>
-The Roots Is There<br>
-That’s The Life <br>
-Babylon Is Dangerous<br>
-Fancy Lady<br>
-Let the Dollar Circulate<br>
-Corrupt Cop <p>
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<p>
Okay, all “conscious” tunes, but I also love some of the party songs, or love songs, with Tabby’s soulful voice, like Lost Without Your Magic, Talk About It (recorded with Lee Scratch Perry), Tonight, and they had some great other “ganja/weed songs” too, besides Pass The Kouchie (e.g. Peace Pipe). Even their head scratching-cover choices, in the end ended up okay, even improving on the original (Putting On The Ritz, for instance). Even better is their cover Gypsy Woman (originally by the Impressions, but covered in Jamaica before also, by the Uniques).<p>
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The Mighty Diamonds were a great band, so very sad that loss of two members (Tabby Diamond and Bunny Diamond) in a matter of days, with the also talented Lloyd “Judge” Ferguson remaining the only member alive. The legacy remains, of course. <p>
<b>CONNOTATIONS</b><p>
In a broader context, the fatal shooting of Tabby Shaw shows other severe problems within Jamaica, or perhaps even the world: the gun and gang violence and rampant criminality, especially affecting poor ghetto communities in Jamaica, including Waterhouse, a ghetto area where Tabby was killed. <p>
This actually got worse since the 1980s, many say due to political and CIA machinations in Jamaica bringing guns to Jamaica, where before early Rude Boys or “tough guys” had to be content with knives or machetes. Inter-party warfare and guns took a hold of poorer communities, with Dons (criminal leaders) coming to control areas of downtown Kingston, supporting a specific political party, therefore more or less protected, but thriving on division. <p>
These historically developed links between poverty, politics, and violence/criminality in Jamaica have been the subject of many Reggae lyrics, including by the Mighty Diamonds, but little has been done over the years to halt it, at least not by higher-placed politicians, after all profiting from the divisions. <p>
As Mutabaruka said in a recent radio show (also commenting on Tabby’s death), this gun violence and crime is an actual “pandemic” too, and much more neglected. <p>
This also shows – in my opinion – the corruption and skewed nature of international and Jamaican politics: hardly addressing poverty, violence, and crime in Jamaica, yet enforcing draconian, dictatorship-like measures for the new flu virus, called Covid 19. Covid, according to nonpartial, nonpoliticized sources, was not even that mortal or severe, soon after April 2020 reaching flu-like levels, rendering it even – according to some – a “fake pandemic” or “plandemic”, with corona policies serving other elitist (political/economic) goals. <p>
Meanwhile, serious (interrelated) poverty, crime, and violence problems in poor parts of Jamaica – and elsewhere in the world! – were neglected, and even sidelined because of the foolish “hype” of Covid 19. <p>
Not even the totalitarian lockdowns or curfews, the corona policy makers liked so much, affected crime that much, only marginally and temporarily. <p>
Corona policies, and now other “hypes” as distractions, such as the Ukraine war, outweighing even in Jamaica news about developments and wars on the continent most Jamaicans originate from: Africa.. <p>
The harsh corona policies did in the end not solve much medically (vaccines are a selling product for Big Pharma.. not much more: medical benefits limited for most people), but did benefit certain wealthy elites – also financially -, and a power hold on the populace – increased citizen control -, these same elites thought necessary. <p>
On the other hand, really trying to solve inequality, hunger, poverty, and violence in the poorer parts of this world, was never attempted, only claimed by international organizations, or with little effect. <p>
Tabby Shaw’s sudden, tragic death by a drive-by shooting (some say a “criminal retaliation”) in a ghetto area of Kingston – of someone who was before all a Reggae artist with positive lyrics -, is a sad and brutal reminder of the negligence of “real” problems in this world. <p>
The very same real problems that the Mighty Diamonds addressed in many of their lyrics. <p>
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Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5343121920244447508.post-40480217784461492872022-03-03T21:36:00.008-08:002022-03-04T10:08:56.322-08:00Artistic photography?<i>“The practice of photography is no longer a means for recording reality. Instead, it has become reality itself.”</i><br>
~Ai Weiwei
<p>
Artistic photography is a field which many of us encounter throughout our lives. In fact, in tandem with photography as such. <p>
I remember the changing technology throughout my life, regarding photos. From camera rolls you left at a photo shop for them to develop, to the ease of digital photos in this time, eventually on our mobile phones. It is a kind of – what is called - “commodification” toward mass consumerism. <p>
Though I in the course of my life often enjoyed taking photos, such as during travels, the “art” was for me more in what I photographed – e.g a landscape, houses, weather – than how I took it. I did often not even bother to check out all the camera’s technical options and possibilities (lighting, panorama, zooming, highlighting) that much, only when necessary. <p>
I did not even quite know how more “professional” photos were taken: something with resolution, sure, and with stands, and other added equipment.. Bigger cameras too. Much more I did not know. Neither did I ever have much interest in buying a more expensive, professional camera. <p>
My interest got awaken more by visits to museums devoted to photography in Amsterdam – you have a few nice ones -, and elsewhere, such as Bilbao, combining usually specific compositions and scenes from everyday reality, that happened to be captured with camera. One exhibition, for example, I saw in Amsterdam’s FOAM museum was of photos of socially critical (exiled, freedom-loving) Chinese photographer Ai Weiwei (photo hereunder). <p>
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<p>
It opened my eyes for the fact that photography is – in fact – or can be considered – an actual art form: more than just documenting, or catching a real moment. <p>
<i>“In the '70s, in Britain, if you were going to do serious photography, you were obliged to work in black-and-white. Color was the palette of commercial photography and snapshot photography.”</i><br>
~Martin Parr
<p>
<b>COMMODIFICATION</b><p>
I am afraid that with the massive spread of smart phones in the last decade, many people fancy themselves good, even artistic photographers, just by selecting good scenes and images, looking perhaps a bit at lighting. It is now not a “project” anymore, e.g. camera rolls you used to take to a developer to be picked up later, relating to a certain vacation or event. Now with the smart phones and the Internet it became a continuous “photo focus” as we go through life, some more fanatical than others. <p>
<i>“Technology has eliminated the basement darkroom and the whole notion of photography as an intense labor of love for obsessives and replaced them with a sense of immediacy and instant gratification”.</i><br>
~Joe McNally
<p>
A funny building, bike, or car, a strange obstacle, a lively street scene, street art, extraordinary people.. all can be “photo worthy”, and when deemed as such, these digital photos spread publicly easily through social media, indeed full of such personal photo galleries. <p>
Though I like taking photos and nice photos too, sometimes I feel it to be “overkill”. That might be a personal thing, for I have never been very “visually oriented”: music and text/content attracted me more, eased my mind more. For the same reason, I have never been a “film buff”, certainly not of the “superficial and spectacular” Hollywood films, with often more visual spectacle than substance. At least, there should be a balance. <p>
Yet, a photo does not mean much by itself: there is always a story behind it, that makes it intriguing. <p>
There is first the reporting, historical, and social value. The look in the eyes of people, usually tells a whole life story, without “deceptive” words. <p>
<b>HISTORY</b><p>
As photography developed as such since the 1820s and 1830s, first in France, and then slowly “improved” and internationalized, some historical periods did not or hardly have direct images, rather representation, including paintings and drawings. <p>
<b>SLAVERY</b><p>
One of those historical epochs I miss “documenting” photographs of, is that of slavery of Africans in the Americas, and the related trans-Atlantic slave trade between Africa and the Americas. Such a crucial and impactful period for many people and several continents, is visually mostly represented by drawings and paintings. Some drawn by those officially hired, but sometimes still with free spirits. <p>
An example of the last is the Scottish-Flemish soldier in Dutch service John Gabriël Stedman, who showed the cruelty of slavery in Suriname, a Dutch colony. His drawings/sketchings were mostly supported by written historical sources, including the cruel punishment and conditions of slaves. <p>
Somewhat ironically, he was sent to Suriname as a soldier to help suppress slave rebellions in that colony, later somewhat switched as he got in a relationship with a slave woman, and began to question the conditions, or at least the severity, of slavery. Some images of slavery in Suriname he left that were manmade, yet somehow educational. Not real, but hinting at reality. <p>
Similar drawings/sketching or paintings of slavery exist from elsewhere in the Americas: e.g. the French colonies, Brazil, Jamaica, and Cuba. The painters/drawing artists tended to be somehow serving the colonial government, but at times more free to allow some reality, besides the “idealizing” of all-too picturesque plantations, as a harmonious village, that it never was: it was overall based on fear and violence. <p>
I worked for years in a scientific institute studying (especially) Caribbean slavery, and I remember those drawings, often as illustration in works about slavery, in e.g. Jamaica or Suriname (with drawings by the mentioned Stedman). Later historical epochs were of course illustrated with, well, photos. <p>
A selection of such paintings/drawings of African slavery in the Americas, I used for the video of my song Backra Massa (including Stedman’s sketches in Suriname). <p>
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<b>PHOTOS OF SLAVERY?</b> <p>
Photos, on the other hand, could “hide” or “rework’ the reality of plantation much less than such drawings or paintings, and I even theorized once that the British abolished slavery (in 1836) fearing the photos (that soon spread to Britain by the 1830s) of plantation slavery in its colonies, and the negative image of cruelty it would give the British Empire. Slavery was abolished later in places like Suriname, the US, Brazil, and Cuba, between the 1850s and even 1880s, so photos of plantation slavery could have been made there more, but mostly were not allowed, for being unfavorable to the colonial authorities, or inconvenient. Yet, some were made. <p>
<i>“It takes a lot of imagination to be a good photographer. You need less imagination to be a painter because you can invent things. But in photography everything is so ordinary; it takes a lot of looking before you learn to see the extraordinary”.</i><br>
~David Bailey
<p>
There are some actual photos of people who were actually slaves, African-born and American born, and those are intriguing and impactful. Especially in the US, between the 1840s and 1860s – including the transitional civil war, actual photos were taken, of plantation slaves in southern states like South Carolina or Virginia. Quite some photos of slaves were also made in Brazil and elsewhere. <p>
The expression on faces of actual slaves are telling and impressive, as well as the general context. These photos visualized the horror and tragedy of dehumanization, of being made inferior like cattle. Facial expressions of enslaved Africans show often a mixture of resignation, sadness, and anger. Photos can capture that directly, drawings/paintings only imitate that. <p>
Here is such an impressive series regarding the US, but there are also interesting photos during slavery, of slaves, taken in Brazil, Cuba, and elsewhere. <p>
<a href="http://nationalhumanitiescenter.org/pds/maai/enslavement/text1/photosenslaved.pdf">http://nationalhumanitiescenter.org/pds/maai/enslavement/text1/photosenslaved.pdf</a>
<p>
<b>GREY AREA</b><p>
These documenting photos of “harsh reality” (including those taken during WW II and the Holocaust, in wars, of famine) – with little room for “posing” – contrast somewhat with later “journalistic” photos – photojournalism -, often with interested parties (promotion, often for commercial or political reasons), but also with more artistic aspirations of photography developing over time. <p>
A grey area between “reporting/documenting” photos and “art” photos developed, normally called “documentary photos”. Capturing moments – as photography does -, but in a specific wider context. “Stylized reality”, you can consider it, e.g. a photo series on “Life in the favelas of Rio”.. Of course photos of such a project are not random, or taken nonchalantly, as so many do with their smart phones, nowadays. They are professional photos. Moreover, they refer to a social reality one wants to “report” on, as it were, visually. There’s a story and a message. <p>
<i>“Photography is the easiest medium with which to be merely competent. Almost anybody can be competent. It's the hardest medium in which to have some sort of personal vision and to have a signature style.” </i><br>
~Chuck Close<p>
From this, the following step is toward what is known as “fine-art photography”, defined as “using photography as a medium for creative expression” and with as goal “expressing an idea, a message, or an emotion”. <p>
An intriguing field, which I myself however could never grasp fully, yet often appreciated, such as in museums, online, in books and journals. Of course, I tried to make “fine-art” photos myself, with limited means, haha. Using light/shadow, setting, and perspective, etcetera, as so many may have. I remembered that one of my older brothers took it further: he was more visually oriented than me – even took up painting -, but also devoted for a period time to “fine-art photos”, including in black and white. <p>
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(Photo above: taken in photography museum Huis Marseille in Amsterdam, Netherlands.)
<p>
Yet, what I still not fully understand is the difference between “representational” (or documentary) photography and “fine-art” photography: is it the same difference as between figurative and abstract art? <p>
A painting friend of mine from El Salvador, who made mainly abstract paintings with medical references (he was also a doctor/physician), told me: “You don’t “understand” abstract art, but instead you “feel” it..”. <p>
Is that it? <p>
<b>ORCHESTRATED</b><p>
All in all, my ambiguous relationship with artistic or fine-art photography lies precisely in its staged, orchestrated character. Scenes are not natural, people are not themselves, but pose. Or are they? In one’s posing one expresses one’s dormant ambitions or desires, still shining through in the facial expression and attitude, however orchestrated and “artificial” a photo scene or setting may seem. <p>
Other modern fine-art photos include the “photoshopping”-like techniques, moving even more into the world of the fictional, artificial, and unreal, but with an artistic function. The latter is an added value, because there are countless “photoshopped” photos based on lame humour, as well as photo manipulations for political or economic goals. <p>
Large political crises (or “hypes”), like the one around corona since 2020, often make – like dictatorships – use of photos and films to “shape” minds. The Nazi propaganda of superior Aryans, versus footage of a Jewish ghetto, that Nazi films portrayed as filthy and with sordid characters and facial expressions, or related to newsreels about dictators like Mussolini or Franco doing “good” works, like opening a bridge or estuary, in the country. Nowadays, some photos of overloaded hospitals, or a man collapsed on the street (of course an unusual reaction to a flu, however severe, by the way) are proven to be manipulated, or misapplied (with a lying text) to the supposed “danger” of covid.. <p>
Psychologically, this is also interesting. As knowledge developed that “traumas” tend to be very “visual” in remembrance, especially among the victims. They often remember "visual" details of traumatic events stronger than, e.g. background noise, things said, smells, or – remarkably – sometimes even the felt physical or mental pain. This shows the strength and impact on our brains of "the visual" or imagery. Of course this very strength was and is misused, such as for political or commercial goals. <p>
<b>AMSTERDAM</b><p>
The two photography museums I visited several times in Amsterdam, the Huis Marseille and the FOAM, convinced me of this added value of an “artistic” goal, rather than “comedic” or political/economic ones. They exhibited international photo art, often with political connotations, but indirectly. <p>
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<p>
In addition to my regular visits to these and other museums over the years (including also in Marseille, and the Guggenheim museum in Bilbao, N. Spain -photo above), in my personal circle I encountered people who told me about their professional photographic activities. <b>Dimitris Meletis</b> (orig. from Greece) has his own site, and also <b>Alessandra Carnio</b> (Argentinian, of Italian origin), both of whom I met in Amsterdam. There are also examples of their art and work on these websites. <p>
<a href="https://dimitrismeletis.com/">https://dimitrismeletis.com/</a>
<p>
and<p>
<a href="https://www.alessandracarnio.com/">https://www.alessandracarnio.com</a>
<p>
To both of them, during conversations, I made the same joke: that I feared that with those smart phones, almost everyone fancies oneself a somehow “artistic” photographer, mostly unjustly. That “joke” of mine is only funny because it is true. Expectedly, their response was something along the lines of “that’s not the same..”. Not the same, they hinted at, because of an artistic approach, preparation, and technology/tools. <p>
Especially for those interested in water and bridges, by the way, the Dutch capital Amsterdam is an appropriate location. One of the cities in Europe – and even the world – with most canals and water through the city, and – relatedly – the city with most bridges in the entire world (true fact). <p>
Though the overall architecture in Amsterdam is perhaps more “Protestant” and “Germanic/ Northern European” than what one knows of flamboyant or graceful architecture in e.g. Southern or Eastern Europe, it is not without nice decorative and beautified streets, houses, of cityscapes, along with varied social and human scenes. Both Meletis and Carnio used the city Amsterdam for their photo art too. <p>
While Alessandra Carnio seems to focus more on “fine-art photography” as such (including "portraits"), and Dimitris Meletis has a broader, professional approach (including video/documentaries on international social themes, and commercial photo assignations), both try to make a living out of it, and therefore have to operate commercially, on a market. Thus, they each in their own way move also in the “grey area” between fine-art photography and something more economic or political. Like with other “pure” art forms: there is no money in it, so they have to. <p>
Yet, the world right now needs pure art, and also this art, especially after the overload of political and mass media manipulation – including misuse of photos and imagery – during the so-called “corona crisis” since Early 2020, and the draconian “lockdown and curfew policies” damaging (or attacking?) culture and art. The morbid emphasis on a virus and supposed “infections” driven by elites, had little joy and inspiration, due to its political – and some say cold financial – motivations, especially leaving a bad taste, as the stated “public health” goals were merely an excuse or a cover. <p>
In reality, this “plandemic” as some call it, creates something unreal, by “faking” the real. Art – including fine-art photography -, does in fact the contrary: it shows the real through the unreal. Exactly the opposite.. That's the reason for censorship of "free" art in dictatorships.<p>
And all of us with our mobile smartphones? It depends on the person and ambitions, but mostly resembling “representational”, reporting, or quasi-journalistic photos, thus more daily and mundane. <p>
<b>CONCLUSION</b><p>
The implicit question throughout this essay was if I really view photography as a valid creative art form. This essay served in a sense for me to assemble arguments in favour or against that notion. <p>
An interesting article I found on the Internet, addresses this same question: <p>
<a href="https://www.studiobinder.com/blog/is-photography-art-debate/">https://www.studiobinder.com/blog/is-photography-art-debate/</a><p>
I can conclude from all this, that I consider some types of photography as actually artistic, as is called “fine art-photography”, relating in my opinion mostly to “intent” and goals, as also the "formal" definition of art, I mentioned before. Techniques are not irrelevant, but advanced techniques (perspectives, camera, lighting etc.) have been used – some say: misused - as much for commercial or political photography. <p>
Goals of artistic photography should ultimately relate to edifying, enlightening – as all art. In other words: showing different ways to view reality, rising above it, while enchanting or “moving”. This is different from the utilitarian goals of commercial aims or political propaganda. It is more uplifting. <p>
I have seen quite some examples of this too.. <p>
<i> "I think art certainly is the vehicle for us to develop any new ideas, to be creative, to extend our imagination, to change the current conditions."</i><br>
~Ai Weiwei
Michel Concihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06003728593753027151noreply@blogger.com0