"World-a-Riddim" : different rhythm types and functions globally

It seems cool to say – as a percussionist – that few instrumentalists in this modern world are as intensely “multicultural” as a percussionist/percussion player. Potentially, but even to a point inevitably.

As a sweeping, more sociopolitical,statement one can even claim that “percussionists are the only true multiculturalists” in this world.. but that is perhaps too sweeping for now..

The exceptions are those deeply specialized in e.g. purely Indian instruments (tabla) to fit in India’s musical structures, or similar all too mono-cultural percussionists in Arabic (e.g. with darbuka’s), Japanese (e.g. taiko’s), or other specific cultures, even within percussion-rich Africa.

Especially in the Western world, most percussionists in modern “pop”, “rock”, and world music, however, combine instruments from the Americas – often the African Diaspora (Afro-Brazil, Afro-Cuba) -, with African, Middle Eastern, European, or modern Western additions.

Some of these Western modern instruments are based on African or Latin American models, but either way new sounds arose, such as the metal “flexatone”, with some “singing saw” characteristics (known historically a bit in Slavic folk music), combined in sets of many percussion players with African or Afro-Cuban drums (djembe, conga’s), woodblocks, bells (found both in Africa and Asia), the relatively more European tambourines, originally Amerindian “scrapers” , or even Spanish castanets.

Like I said, a truly multicultural mix, this “tool kit” of percussionists in many “pop” or “world” music bands..

THE FUNCTION OF RHYTHM

That is: instrument-wise. It is also a fact, however, that musical “rhythm” is not uniformly defined across cultures worldwide: regarding its function in music in different cultures.

Drums and rhythm play a role in very different cultures, but are just the “tools” used according to different values and with different goals throughout world cultures.

One used to Afro-American and African percussion – like myself – can often not get into Indian “rhythms”, Japanese, or Arabic “rhythms” that easily. Even when you are musically and rhythmically flexible and adaptive – which I claim to be – dancing to it does not go as automatic as to Yoruba, Reggae, or Samba music.

In fact, some music with drums and “rhythms” in some specific cultures are not even meant to dance to (other “social”, artistic, ritual, or narrative functions). Certainly not as is common in African-based rhythms – “dance music” , or European music which we are used to. In a part of European music “rhythm” - or eventually present percussion/drums - is not even that dance-oriented, but rather serving as a harmonic base.

I myself as a percussionist am instrument-wise certainly very multicultural, rhythm-wise admittedly less. I enjoyed - selectively – some Asian, Middle Eastern, or other non-Afro – rhythms in music, some even felt a bit danceable to me, but Afro-American and African swing and polyrhythm, or clave-based music, remains more my “thing”, rhythmically. My main love.

I am a Reggae fan, and a nice thing about Reggae is that it mixes “straight rhythm”, clave, and polyrhythm aspects, with Swing, as known from Jazz and Blues. In that sense it is rhythmically between Afro-Cuban music and Afro-US music (Jazz, R&B, etc.). A good African Diaspora mix.

That is my personal rhythmical world and taste, and it is a personal trajectory, based on own choices and tastes.

OTHER MUSICAL CULTURES: SUMMARIZED

I do wonder, though, how my “world-a-riddim” (ha!) compares to the other ones I mentioned. Music follows culture, so the function of rhythm in a culture’s music reflects that culture.

In this sense “keywords” can be useful. Are there short ways to describe rhythm’s functions in different cultures?

Through Google, AI (a google plus, really), Wikipedia, and some paper sources, I could derive these keywords/short characterizations, related to some representative cultural “zones” in this world..

It is of course terribly simplified, and not all existing musical cultures are mentioned, but it is about main trends.

Africa: polyrhythm (simultaneous, interlocking rhythms) and timeline (clave). Cross rhythms too. Layered vertically.

India: cyclical time and tala (story and language based). Monophonic, linear and mathematical. Horizontal (differing from “vertical”, layered rhythm building in African music).

Western classical music: rhythm subdued to melody and harmony, later more metric flexibility and syncopation.

Celtic music: rhythm built into melodic playing (mixed), also on nonpercussive instruments (like a fiddle, pipe, or harp). Often story based. Flowing, “floating” feel, “rolling” and linear, more “ornamented” than e.g. Germanic music, and also more syncopation. Frame drum use common.

Germanic music: strict, symmetrical meters, strong first downbeat: “marching” and Waltz as archetypes. Mathematically precise, tight on-beat rhythms.

Slavic music: asymmetrical and less strict than Germanic music, some syncopation.

Arabic music: cyclical rhythmic modes, as a structural but looping skeleton, flexible to allow ornamentation. Monorhythmic. Follows melody.

Turkish music (incl. Balkan): sophisticated rhythm cycles, irregular and asymmetric meters “limping” effect), additive meters (bouncing, "swing" effect). Further similarities with Arabic rhythm cycles.

Indonesian music: colotomic structure (gamelan): architecturally precise. Gongs/metal dominant, skinned drums secondary.

Chinese music: not a metronomic rhythm but an elastic framework. Empty space valued. Following energy flow.”Breath”-based. Slight heterophony. Mostly linear, but fluid.

Japanese music: also breath-based – not metronomic -, and gives likewise importance to empty space “ the rhythmic power of silence”. Aids in story-telling and community.

Tibetan music: paces meditation, monorhythmic, non-metric rhythm , but instead - again – breath governed, and elastic. Rhythm aims at stabilizing the mind, and an inward focus though slow repetitive beats. No loops or cycles, but guiding rituals or texts.

Amerindian (or: Shamanic) music: monorhythm, “heartbeat” of nature-based, spiritual functions. Deep bass drum sounds.

Inuit music: asymmetric meter, story-based. Voice-drum interactions. Rim-hit frame drums common, differing from “deep bass” sounds of Amerindians in e.g. Bolivia.

Flamenco (Spanish) music: asymmetric elements / limitedly metered but freer, 12-beat rhythmic cycles. Nonwestern in most rhythmic aspects, including frequent syncopation, and even polyrhythm. Flamenco is rhythmically exceptional within Europe, due to different cultural influences (Roma/Indian, Moorish, African), mixed in with local Andalusian folk music.

STEREOTYPES BUT NUANCED

All this seems to more or less confirm stereotypes (Germanic music tight and “marching” like, complex story-based in India, deep heartbeat among Amerindians, “floating/flowing” Celtic sounds, meditative in Tibet and China, “groove” and polyrhythm-based in Africa), but also shows nuances. Syncopation is not only limited to Africa, for instance.

In several cultures rhythm follows a horizontal, textual “story” or “melody” of some sort (Asia and Europe), but not everywhere. Rhythm is indeed the least subdued to melody or harmony in African music: another stereotype confirmed, albeit not an offensive one (in my opinion). I am of the opinion that words/language/texts are after all also tools to lie and mislead. Their primacy over natural “rhythm” therefore suspicious.

This summary also shows how Japanese culture is partly influenced or derived from older Chinese culture, sharing cultural values of “breath” and “empty space”, in line with spiritual ideas around energy flows, as found in Buddhism (see Tibetan music), Taoism, and Shintoism.

Complicated rhythm structures in India also support ancient cultural “stories” and principles, in this case from Hinduism, showing in drums imitating spoken language.

In its syncopation, “later” Western music (pop, “rock”) certainly underwent African and Afro-American influences (via Blues, Jazz, etc.).

Logically, as part of music, rhythm follows and supports cultural specific structures and goals. In many cultures these align with local spirituality and even “sacred” or “holy” music, albeit with secular versions.

SIMPLIFIED DINSTINCTION

Looking at rhythm’s function in traditional music world wide, this main, oft-repeated – simplified – distinction bears some truth: Europe emphasizes harmony in music, Asia melody, and Africa rhythm.

Still simplified, and all music have harmonic, melodic and, rhythmic aspects, but in essence it holds: in by themselves also differing Asian music cultures (Arabic, Chinese, Indian, a.o.), rhythm almost always supports “melody” or “stories/texts” (textual stories of melodies), while in Europe indeed rhythm often tended to support “harmony”, as noticeable in “classical” music (Bach, Chopin, Tchaikovsky, etc.), though in older folk traditions (Celtic, Germanic, Slavic, Basque), supporting the stories or “melodies” also was a function of rhythm.

Polyrhythms as meant to dance to, ritually or not, remain typically and originally African. Of course, however, lyrics and singing also play a role in African music, even a guiding one, but often also rhythmically-oriented (call-and-response), seldom supporting non-rhythm as in other cultures.

SACRILEGE?

I am not the type of guy who plays the “sacrilege” card too soon, though I have my own, largely Rastafari-based spiritual views. Musicians and artists furthermore need to think creative and free to add value. That humans are born to be free, and think free, is after all also my (spiritual?) opinion.

In addition to this, one must beware of no selectiveness or bias regarding this: all too easy use, distortion, or appropriation of (even spiritual) African musical principles seems more tolerated in the West for even commercial music producers, than if e.g. non-initiates play Indian or other Asian instruments that in many minds connect more to “pure” or “sacred” ancient religions (Hindusim and Buddhism), implicitly to be respected more.

Not the same degree of “respect”, let’s just say, painfully reflecting the disparaging historical treatment of equally ancient African culture in colonial history, The same reason that India – while once a British colony – kept it’s Hindu-based culture, whereas Igbo , Yoruba, - also colonized by the British – largely “Christianized”, or elsewhere “Arabicized”/ Islamicized.. More trampled upon.

Even among African descendants in the African Diaspora – and even within the Afro-centric Rastafari movement - , there exist disparaging view of Vodou and related “spirit invoking” or “ancestor spirits” veneration in Africa.

In Central Africa (around the Congo region), ancestor worship has long been traditionally important, whereas in the Nigeria-Benin-Ghana region specific deities/spirits – connected with e.g. nature, like rivers, thunder (Shango, Yemayá, etc.) - “mounting” believers, long was. All this “spirit possession” occurs through rhythm and drumming patterns, with trance-like effects, and while dancing.

The relative importance and primacy of rhythm and drums in sub-Saharan Africa relates to these faiths.

Christianity and Islam tried to limit that, but African percussion found a way to survive, now more secularly. Think of the Djembe drumming culture and circles in nominally Islamic areas like Mali, Guinea, Senegambia, Burkina Faso, and around

This secular “djembe” drumming gained even international popularity, mostly without a proscribed spiritual goal other than “community” or “musical bliss”, though rhythmic patterns played might derive originally from ritual or “religious” celebrations in Mande cultures, such as male circumcision, initiation, etc. They became secular, though.

REGGAE PERCUSSION AND RASTAFARI

Opinions among Reggae percussionsists in Jamaica differ. These tend to be Rastafari-adherents, where a Biblical/Protestant influence (via British colonialism) still made some condemn African Vodou and related “spirit possession” faiths in Jamaica (Obeah, Pocomania), as devilish and divisive. “Obeah” and Vodou are said in some Reggae lyrics to use their “science” mainly to sabotage/attack enemies, and put wicked spells against their brothers and sisters.

Some Rastas, like Mutabaruka, however deplore this as an unfortunate Western/colonial remnant – once meant to disparage and destroy the African heritage – still within the otherwise Afro-centric Rastafari movement, that chose to be Bible-based.

Indeed, I have researched a period more deeply Vodou, Santería, Myal, Obeah, etc…, and such African “spirit possession” faiths, and their tenets and practices. I concluded it is more about “harmony”, “community”, and “healing” – i.e. the “good” – than wicked tricks and spells against people as the European stereotype indoctrinated people with.

Good and bad/evil are more clearly formulated and distinguished in text-based Christianity and the Bible (and the Quran), which might attract believers wanting to improve the(ir) world and take a clear moral stance, but a lot of that is hypocrisy and hidden power play, as the “conquering” religions Christianity, Islam,..clearly showed with their history of enslavement and second-class citizenships for nonbelievers or, well, women.

Even with this condemning of Vodou by some Rasta percussionists, they still admit that they draw on Vodou, Pocomania, Kumina, Burru, Yoruba, drum patterns or notions, when fitting musically in a Roots Reggae context. Repurposing “spirit possession”, and of course “ancestor worship” long common in Congo regions, can be seen metaphorically as honouring/respecting ones African foreparents, knowing their roots n Africa, so important for Rastafari.

This makes “sacrilege” not a very useful term for creative, rhythmic musicians. Rhythm is everywhere, it is life itself, and thus in all humans, enabling each one to express oneself through it. Just like you can get in a “trance” or meditate in quite different ways: sitting down and silent, or dancing/ moving, and singing.

Still, some “sacrilege” or “disrespect” objections were made by rigid critics against free-thinking” world music” instrumentalists who dared for instance to use a Nepalese singing bowl outside of the Buddhist lithurgical context, such as for a jazzy musical piece, or the double-sided Yoruba Bata drums in Cuba, used normally in spiritual contexts, when used in too secular “party” songs (Salsa, Latin). Those “purist” objections will remain, I think.

Rastafari adherents have at least the good argument that Rastafari arose in Jamaica among Afro-Jamaicans as a reconnection with the African roots and values (i.e. via Kumina drumming), as a broader goal “overruling” petty ritualistic considerations.

Rastafari’s Nyabinghi drumming with the characteristic “heartbeat” drum patterns is partly rooted in Congo-based Kumina drumming of Central African descendants in Eastern Jamaica, and Kumina was originally aimed at ancestor spirit invoking. Later it was replaced – or repurposed - by Rastas with Biblically based “chants” aimed at one God/Jah”, on the same drum pattern.

Some flexibility there, with fruitful results in developing Rasta culture. Culture is after all not static, but dynamic. Influenced by different cultures over time. In this case an own “Black” interpretation of the Bible.

FLEXIBILITY

Just like people are flexible too. Percussionists in the Western world, e.g. in Pop or Rock bands (or Soul, Funk, Reggae, Latin, etc.), or part of bands in Europe or the US, cannot escape being multicultural, with almost inevitably African musical elements, mixed with other ones. Standard percussion sets include Afro-Cuban instruments (conga’s, guiro, bongo), and often also African and Afro-Brazilian ones, along with Asian influences or modern factory variants, with often Afro-Latin models: examples are the now metal Cabasa shaker, based on the traditional beaded Shekere, or the Vibraslap rattle, based on the older (e.g. Peruvian) “donkey jaw”. All in all an intriguing variation of instruments, with own histories

On the other hand: many “pop” or Rock songs in Western music with standard structures (chorus-verses, bridge) are also “stories, more or less derived from Western poetic and prosaic traditions, and rhythm supports these, somewhat reminding of rhythm’s function in Asian traditions (Indian, Arabic, Chinese): supporting main melodies and stories, with timed sounds. Additionally, it also must fit a European harmony structure.

This is the musical playground, wherein it’s fun and inspiring to play, according to one’s own preferences: atmospheric, repetitive, polyrhythmic, syncopated, straight on the beat or swing. And yes, also “free space” and “breath” – as in Asian/Chinese musical culture – plays a role in this rhythmic work, (tension building, rest, etc).

What I like about Amerindian music (Peru, Bolivia, etc.) is the direct spiritual reference to nature of the drum TOOK-took-took-took, TOOK-took-took-took, like a beating heart and life line. That’s somehow part of many grooves in other genres too.

CONCLUSION

It’s good to focus on the “function of rhythm” for me as percussionist, but also as songwriter which I de facto also am, including vocals and lyrics (see my Youtube Channel).

When making/writing songs, I sometimes follow some Western pop standards (bridge, chorus, verse) and elements, mostly genre-wise Reggae, with (e.g.) often Afro-Cuban or Jazz influences adding syncopation and polyrhythm.

In other compositions of mine I depart from such “modern pop” formats and I try to make more traditional African polyrhythmic music, Salsa songs, Flamenco songs, or in European or Caribbean folk genres, with other musical structures: more asymmetric or unmetered.

Spanish Flamenco came early in my life, as my mother was from Southern Spain, and with a large family there. Some distant family members of my grandmother’s side – surname De Tena - are even Flamenco artists/singers I understood (like Miguel De Tena), so really in that culture. I like some genres and aspects of Flamenco enough to make Flamenco-like songs too, haha. This is aided by the aforementioned summary/description that Flamenco is one of the few European genres that has “polyrhythm” and further a non-Western rhythmic base. More toward “Africa”, let’s say, like Andalusia’s geography.

On the other hand: also Alpine Italian accordion music (my father was from Northern Italy), North African, or French chansons, grabbed my interest for periods.

That shows that I like to experiment with different global rhythms, even straying quite far outside my relative favourite African or African Diaspora genres (Reggae, Rumba, Son, Funk, African genres). Hoping to also find beauty in them.

That’s what an open mind – also a “musical open mind” - is: wanting to see beauty everywhere. Wanting to see possibility and inspiration everywhere.

Eventually, despite this, – usually – the “prodigal son returns to his own” to use a Biblical reference, used in also Catholic countries, as my Spanish mother used this expression regularly, for “returning “home”, where you feel in the end most at ease, and in some way “loved”, after curious wanderings.

My percussion playing on jamsessions in clubs (mainly in Amsterdam) can also be seen online, on my Youtube channel, and it also is flexible and “multicultural”, with varying patterns from e.g. Afro-Cuban Rumba and Abakua, Brazilian Samba, African bell patterns, Conga-fied Reggae basslines, Cumbia, Flamenco, but also classical music, “rock” or Pop , folk/Celtic, or Middle Eastern elements, which I try to flexibly add to the songs: usually nice covers of Rock or Funk classics.

I use thus a variety of multicultural, modern and traditional percussion instruments, but also adapt to the different functions of rhythm in Pop or Rock, while adding syncopation and counter-rhythms, without distracting from the main basic songs. This can be also “ornamentation” known in Celtic, Arabic, and Flamenco music rhythms, but also “vertically layered” on top of as well as interlocking with the main bass-drum beat, as in polyrhythmic sub-Saharan African music, hopefully to good “driving” effect.

This all is the multicultural and groovy fun of it.

Balafon story and AI

It was some time ago, in another stage in my life, that I walked into a – as I recall it – “third world-minded” shop in the town of Leyden in the Netherlands.

I did not live in Leyden, but it was so long ago (around 15 years ago?) that I do not even recall whether I lived in Amsterdam then already, or even still in my parental house in Nieuw Vennep: a village in the “busy” western Netherlands between Leyden and Amsterdam. I worked a period in Leyden, so it could be during a “break” at that job, during which I indeed used to walk through Leyden’s center with stores. The institute where I worked lacked an own “cantina”, dependent for that on university facilities.

One of my brothers also lived In Leyden, so it could otherwise be during a visit to him.

BALAFON FROM SENEGAL

Either way, I remember that in that store I was intrigued by a small balafon, with six bars/keys made of nice-looking brownish wood, tied with ropes in nice red, gold, and green colours, in sync with my other interests (Reggae, Rastafari). As in larger balafons, calabashes served as resonators.. for this small one two calabash gourds seemingly sufficed. I decided to buy it.

The total size was more than manageable: around 26 cm (10.2 inches) by 23 cm, and around 11 cm high.

Oddly enough I do not remember the “aftermath” of this purchase: did I come from my brother and bought that after my visit, on my way to Leyden’s train station? Did it fit well in my rucksack, I usually took along?

If during my job break.. did I keep it in my rucksack during final work hours, perhaps mentioned it to colleagues? I really can’t remember.

I do remember what I asked the man in (owning?) that shop – a seemingly middle-aged, greying Dutchman – : “where is that balafon from?”, I asked. “From Senegal”, he answered.

Strange how you, or at least I, often tend to remember “parts of events” , some “scenes” or “short conversations” instead of the whole event from beginning to end, a lot of it blurred to oblivion.

Anyway, after all those years, I still have that small balafon, as I am now living for over 20 years in Amsterdam, the Netherlands capital, a bigger city than Leyden, around 40 km Northeast of it. More spectacular, but perhaps less cozy or peaceful.

COMPOSITIONS

Though my house in Amsterdam has by now become similar to a “percussion museum”, with all the instruments I gathered over the years – more percussionists/percussion players I know have that – the balafon is more than a museum piece, as I regularly play (with) it - including sometimes brought it to jams to play live in clubs - , and used it in several of my recorded compositions, instrumental and vocal, often to add an African "feel”. The compositions I usually published on my YouTube channel.

This one was solely balafon-based:

On a recent song I released even “officially” for all main platforms (via TuneCore), called Truly Democratic, I used this balafon, as there was also a Djembe pattern in that song from Mali, bordering Senegal, where the balafon was from. Besides this nerdy “Mande African” connection, I also thought it fitted the overall sound and composition, moreover. It contrasted with high pitches the low-pitched djembe pattern.

Imagination running free and experimenting with sound are all very good in and for making music, but it’s good to remind ourselves that music develops within cultures, usually in communal/festive settings. The root and essence of “real” music remain more in that – communal culture -, than in the nowadays music recording, technical “blokes” who play around in a home studio, and have a computer with internet, in some Western city.

This cultural, "folk" roots is especially the case for traditional and acoustic instruments like the balafon, from traditional music in Western Africa.

Being since young an interest of mine, theoretically I knew something about Balafons – as African types of xylophones -, saw photos of it, and found out in what parts of Africa they were common.

I have a wider musical interest, including within African music, and at one point started to focus more on drum types, types of bells, and the balafon somewhat “drowned” in all this, and was sidelined..

Until.. some moments when I thought of a nice counterpoint to a drum (poly)rhythm in one of my compositions, and thought of the relatively high tones of my small balafon, creating a nice “overriding” melody.

Fun never done, in all creative freedom, but over all these years I still did not get to study more deeper the cultural heritage connected to the balafon, even if regularly recording with it.

Strange, because I over the years did study some drum types (African, Afro-Cuban), or other instruments I liked (the Udu vessel from Nigeria/Igboland, for instance).

So, time to fill these knowledge gaps about the Balafon.

ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE (AI)

Wikipedia is almost inevitable as source, but nowadays you have also AI sources like ChapGPT or Grok, assembling information from other sources. Like a Google 2.0 or “Plus”, as it were.

Also an interesting way to test the worth of such AI sources.. predictably glorified by capitalist money sharks, but do we – as common folk – can have any lasting benefit of Artificial Intelligence?

I am weary of wider economic uses of AI, I admit, especially for “work replacement”: as “unquestioning following orders” is a wet dream of the wrong powerful people, those who like to dehumanize others for their benefit.

As a search engine I can see the value of AI, though.

WIKIPEDIA FIRST

Wikipedia – often quite reliable - gave some interesting information, also about the wider xylophone family. The term “balafon” is related to a language in the Mande-speaking areas of Western Africa, notably around Guinea, Mali, Senegal, and Eastward to Burkina Faso and Northern Ivory Coast. Beyond linguistic issues, similar xylophones are found elsewhere in Africa, with some differences in use, tuning, and construction, but often (not always) also with gourd/calabash resonators, Uganda (the Amadinda instrument), Mozambique, Zambia, are relatively a bit better known for balafon/xylophone traditions, but types of xylophones/balafons are found in several countries as yet unmentioned more, like Cameroon, Malawi, and Congo.

Interesting are the similarities and slight differences between these balafons and their use across Africa, the main shared characteristics being the playing style, with interlocking patterns of often a duo of players (with own differently tuned balafons often), and often calabash gourds as resonators. The keys are made of African hardwood – obviously – but rosewood seems the preferred type of wood, due to its strength and acoustic qualities. Rosewood is in recent times for these reasons, even starting to be used for the Spanish castanets in Spain (traditionally it was chestnut), and other, also more modern European/Western instruments.

SPIDERWEB SILK

Spiderweb silk strings are in balafons attached, with beewax, to the keys for a desired “buzzing” sound, preferred for most balafons in the Mande-speaking (”Guinea”) region, and other parts in West Africa (e.g. also for Cameroonian balafons/xylophones), but not in East Africa, lacking therefore much of that “buzzing” sound. According to my AI search in Ugandan xylophones banana fiber is instead sometimes used. In Zambia other “spider” products are used. Apparently, spiders as insects usually dwelled in gourds, triggering such use.

This is interesting, because it explains the sonic difference of the “bright” xylophones in East Africa (like Uganda), with the relatively more “buzzing” (spiderweb-silked) balafon sounds of Guinea or Mali.

OUTSIDE OF AFRICA

So, the continent of Africa has a rich balafon and xylophone tradition, but I also know of Asian xylophones, and Western ones. For instance, in the Netherlands, the xylophone is commonly used in basic music education at some schools, due to its seeming clarity.

Indonesian music I know often has traditionally some xylophones.

My, admittedly, small knowledge base, even more so outside of Africa, is however also a good starting point for AI searches. What I find most interesting – as a kind of “history buff” that I am – is the earliest origin of xylophones (wooden keys, tuned, played with sticks), and in what part of the world.

It turns out – as also Wikipedia describes – that the earliest xylophones were found in Southeast Asia, at least as early as 500 BC, in (indeed) Indonesia, but also mainland Southeast Asia (the Vietnam-Cambodia, and Thailand region).

Present-day xylophones in Thailand are known as “ranad” and also use calabash gourds as resonators as in Africa (with a resulting slight “nasal” sound), but without spiderweb silk, so less “buzzing”. Mostly bright sounds, therefore.

From Southeast Asia it spread to Africa via migrants, first via Madagascar, and explaining the strong presence in e.g. Mozambique. In Mozambique, the xylophones called “timbila’s” there, often played combined in orchestras, e.g. in the Chopi culture.

I further asked questions to AI about differences between African, Asian, and European xylophones, and was less surprised, as common notions about musical characteristics funnily seemed confirmed to me. Balafons in Africa were played with simultaneous polyrhythm and “interlocking” structures, often by various players at once, whereas the Indonesian or Thai xylophones fit in their more melodic cultures, though as I interestingly read: the Thai Tanad is equally used rhythmically (especially the lower notes), as, I cite from X’s AI searcher Grok: “In Thai music, the boundary between melody and rhythm is blurred, and the ranat family sits right in the middle of that overlap. They are essential for both defining the melodic line and driving the rhythmic pulse of the ensemble.”.

Another thing I did not know, although I of course used to focus more on African music, because of my love for rhythm and polyrhythm.

In Europe, the xylophone appeared much later, first in Bavaria (South Germany), in the Early 16th c., though steadily gaining a place in also orchestral music, and among classical composers like Camille Saint-Saëns, but also some pieces by e.g. Dmitri Shostakovich, Gustav Mahler, and others. Predictably, in European traditions, European music “harmony” laws applied, with a melodic and harmonic function first, and only a secondary rhythmic function.

To me, that made it not much different than guitars or piano’s, able to play the same melodies, only with a “wood-ringing” sound. Balafons intrigued me more, as I could fit it in my African-based compositions.

I was thus glad that I obtained that Senegalese, African balafon in that “exotic world stuff” store in Leyden – even if a small, six-key one: still nuff possibilities . I made good creative use of it, and so finding and acquiring it seemed "meant to be". Even if I don’t remember what I did the rest of that day or week..

I especially used it in “Mande Africa” referring compositions (such as my instrumental Bamako, named after Mali’s capital), as fitting its Senegalese origin.

Beyond that, however, I used my small balafon quite often in other African-influenced instrumentals (such as my vocal Soukous song Osilisi) I made, instrumental or not. The Congolese Soukous tends to have a driving, semi-rhythmic guitar, but I replaced that with a similar high, “bright” sound of the balafon.

I call some of my instrumentals “percussion instrumentals”, due to their main focus, but the balafon at times added some melody to such mainly rhythmic compositions of mine. I guess I also liked the “high” counterpoint to drum beats or lower bells.

I used it on some Reggae songs I made too (on Truly Democratic, for instance, as I said).

Enough about my own compositions for now, though. If interested, you can search on “Michel Conci” and Balafon (on YouTube), as for my percussion instrumentals, I tended to give instrument names in the Info text.

TOWARDS A CONCLUSION

In conclusion, I will focus on my knowledge, though, about the balafon/xylophone. I learned, now by searching through that modern “aid”(?) Artificial Intelligence, added to Google, Wikipedia, or some books I might have. Long overdue, in this year 2025, after having used my small balafons already in many of my (published!) compositions.

I did not really realize that the origins of the xylophone are in SouthEast Asia (back to BC), after that soon travelling to Africa, where it developed independently, according to own musical cultures. After all, many instruments travel: the South Spanish guitar (with Persian-Moorish antecedents), and its offshoots (e.g. the electric guitar) are best known, but also the (North Italian) violin, the Belgian-invented saxophone, the originally New Orleans/Jazz “drum kit” with cymbals, the Armenian-Turkish “cymbals” themselves, and in other posts on this blog I related how the Accordion and Harmonica (whether we want to, or not) originated in Germany.

This SE Asia to Africa migration is however another route than the usual “Western colonial” route, ending up influencing pop and Rock, only because Europeans or the US once could impose (or milder “bring”) their culture to e.g. to the Americas, or the whole world.

All these instruments are used in different ways in different cultures, adding the “soul” beyond mere material/technical aspects, the human creativity and natural playfulness, working out in different ways, within folk cultures.

Thus, the harmonica got used commonly in Blues, guitars rhythmically in Caribbean and African genres, according to African or African-derived norms, either “swing” based (as in Jazz or Blues, partly Reggae), or “straight rhythm”-based (as in e.g. Cuba, south Nigeria, and the Congo).

In the case of the xylophone, though, Europe had – for a welcome change – little to do with the spread from Southeast Asia to Africa: just from the people to the people, each in their own way. The xylophone has been unknown in European traditional music.

Or was it not?

TXALAPARTA

There is perhaps an exception in the Basque Txalaparta instrument, in Northern Spain, SW France. For all intents and purposes, this traditional Basque instruments is a “xylophone”. It consists of several wooden boards (often larger one, and around 6 or 8), differently tuned (though not very precise), and played with twos sticks, usually by two people.

Since some Basque traditions are very old (and some adapted influences from later), this Txalaparta-playing might well predate the arrival of the then “exotic” Xylophone in Germany, in the 16th c..

Even more interestingly, the type of playing has some commonalities with Balafon playing in Africa. “Without knowing it” a Basque musicologist assured (cultural colonial appropriation occurred often, after all, like the English “tea drinking”). Even polyrhythm and call-and –response patterns are shared between Basque Txalaparta and many African balafon traditions, and an overall rhythmic focus, perhaps unusual in wider Europe. The pentatonic scale is likewise – as in Africa – often used.

Only, traditionally no gourds are used as resonators among the Basques (traditionally ,anyway), and rhythmic structures on the Txalaparta are a bit different, less corporal and “hip-oriented”.

Musicologists relate these similarities to an older Neolithic origin, predating the arrival of later Indo-European peoples to Europe (the Basque speak an old, pre-Indo-European language), thus conserving some ancient polyrhythm aspects. Basque music, though, has quite some similarities with Celtic music (in NW Spain, Ireland, and elsewhere), also preserving older aspects, even if Celts result from mixtures with alter Indo-European migrants.

Genetically, the Basques have an ancient European origin (partly shared with some Celts), with hardly a connection to African roots. Even the Moorish period in Spain did not affect the Basques as much as other Spaniards. While also genetically, other Spaniards have overall more “Mediterranean” and “North African” DNA admixture, especially more to the South, so it’s not a “lost African tribe” in Spain, but, probably, shared human developments across the world, and similar inventions, causing the commonalities between Txalaparta and Balafon playing.

Humanity worldwide has as much similarities as differences, and the Basque Txalaparta had – broadly speaking - more or less the same functions (rhythmically) as African Balafons, and also a communal function, but a different one. In Basque culture, the Txalaparta was associated with “cider-making”, or other gatherings. A different climate zone as well, as the wood in Txalaparta tended long to be “chestnut” wood (later metal, recently also rosewood, because of international influences)..

Still.. a type of (wooden) xylophone, played for rhythmic and communal functions, is what the Basque Txalaparta shares with the African Balafons.

The mentioned “spiderweb silk” used in Africa to add a “buzz” to the sound of beaten keys is traditionally also absent from the Txalaparta, as are as said the calabash gourds. The latter is African.

Another thing I did not really know or realize. My small (Senegalese) balafon does not seem to have a strong “buzz”: it sounds bright and nasal (the calabash gourd effect), so I don’t think it has that added spiderweb silk and beewax.

I am not quite sure, and it is hard to check, without dismantling my Balafon too much.

I find it either way qua sound nice enough for compositions, adding a high-pitched, bright “ukulele”-like sound, but warmer, more African.

FINAL CONCLUSION

Now I learned more about the Balafon (I myself used in compositions), that I did not even know, and share this with readers of this post. In some artistic - or perhaps more: “cultural” or “spiritual” - sense I found this knowledge to be useful for me.

AI served me well in this case. I was surprised by the well-written summaries of AI answers to my question: in well-structured “human language” texts. This made me doubt if AI really did not involve human beings, or is there a bunch of writers/editors working behind the screen hired? Really all by machines and artificial?

It certainly added value to what I knew as search engines (like Google), and driven by our own curious questions, AI as an extended search engine could serve all humanity, rich or poor. Information gathering, extending our knowledge.

Rich capitalists, exploiters, money sharks, and even governments, want to go beyond this, I am afraid, drewling at “robot-creating” possibilities, for efficient (read: more profitable) production, creating the “robots” they always wanted, and first tried to make out of us humans. That would be less positive.

As a search engine, Artificial Intelligence, is enough, if it was up to me.

I worked in Leyden until around 2013 (for over 12 years), and went to Leyden a few times since.

Already in the later years after buying the Balafon in that store (near Leyden’;s central, wide Breestraat), I noticed the store had disappeared, noticing this unfortunately during one of my “break walks” in between my intensive “nose in books” library job at the KITLV institute I worked then. “What a pity”, I thought.

Yet, it is in this haphazard way, by chance, even in temporary stalls or stores, I bought many of my especially smaller percussion instruments, over the years.

A nice shaker with Marcus Garvey and pan-African colours on it (I also still use), I bought from a nice, dark-skinned Rastaman at a Cannabis Liberation festival in Amsterdam’s Westerpark, around 2003.

For a period, that typically Amsterdam (the “cool” side of Amsterdam, let’s say), and hippy-vibed festival was held, but stopped some years ago, as cannabis seemed liberated enough?

Other instruments I bought in other “fair trade” shops in the Netherlands, in other stalls in music/Reggae festivals (with e.g. African items) in Amsterdam, Spain, or elsewhere.

That makes my percussion collection all the more unique and personal. It’s not a common “one-big-music-shop” –thing, therefore showing more of original acoustic cultures. My balafon from Senegal is certainly part of that.

Calabash

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.

RESONATOR

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”.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I suddenly realized that I have quite a lot of dried “calabash” in my house, spread throughout several instruments, haha. A percussionist’s thing..

SHEKERE

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).

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).

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.

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).

AS DRUM

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).

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

A pity I could not find such a calabash drum for my collection and compositions (and jamming), I began to think..

WATER DRUM

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.

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.

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.

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..

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.

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.

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.

DOMESTICATION

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.

ASIA AND ELSEWHERE

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.

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.

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..

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.

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.

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”.

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.

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.

Yet, shakers and scrapers were also long known in Africa, also with gourd resonators, long before colonialism, so to say.

INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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..

MODERN POP

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.

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.

CONCLUSION

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..).

The flexible spread of the tambourine

Within the wide variety of percussion instruments there is also the tambourine. Over time, the instrument obtained a certain popularity, also in “mainstream” Western pop and rock music. Whereas other percussion instruments, even if quite well-known internationally, such as congas, cowbells, cabasa’s, or even woodblocks, have maintained their more or less “exotic” or “world music” image – as stemming mostly from Afro-Cuban and Afro-Brazilian music -, the tambourine has become more mainstream, even in Western, or “white people” music (simply said) as Rock, Pop, Beat, Folk, or Country. The tambourine is seen often played by known pop and rock stars, as it is often played by singers too. The Bob Dylan song “Mr Tambourine Man” connected it in the popular imagination stronger with US folk music traditions.

How can this relative “mainstream” appeal of the tambourine in Western (US or British) pop music be explained, when compared to other (shaker) instruments, known as more “tropical” ones (maracas, cabasas, chekere)?

I do not know, but I would like to explore that in this post.

ORIGINS

The origins of the tambourine as such are known to lie in the Middle East. Well, many “vaguely” know this, but the history of its spread is complex.

The English Wikipedia article about the tambourine seems to be quite certain that the instrument originated in Ancient Egypt, which is not only interesting, but also quite probable. They were there known as Tof among the ancient Hebrews, and were used in religious contexts. It is even mentioned in the Bible.

VAGUE AND CONFUSING ASPECTS

Origins and early spread

This Wikipedia article, however, has other vague aspects or omissions, compared to other information on the Internet. Maybe because it is not a very good or complete article. Elsewhere – in other sources - I read, after all, that the tambourine came from the Middle East, via North Africa, to Spain and Portugal, with the Moorish rule in Iberia (between the 8th and 15th c.). Again, quite probable, as so did other musical instruments, notably lutes, and the forerunner of what would become the Spanish guitar (which the Arabs in turn derived from Persian instruments). Other sources, however, date its arrival to Europe somewhat later, to the 13th c., and not per se via Iberia.

This explains why in Brazil types of tambourines, such as the “pandeiro”, are much used in popular music, as in other parts of Latin America. It also explains why many Spanish folk music genres include the “pandereta”, as the tambourine (with drum head and bells) is called in Spanish. Yet: it does not explain why it is similarly found in folk music in parts of Europe without that Moorish (or Arab/Islamic) past, such as Italy, France, the Basque country, but also Russia, and Ukraine. Somehow, its appeal made it spread, even when a direct cultural link seems absent.

Types and characteristics

Another confusing aspect is what the “tambourine” looks like, according to definitions. Originally the term was used for a frame drum with a drumhead (or: membrane), with bells on the side, hence also the name deriving from a diminutive of “tambor” (drum in Spanish), or “tambour” (in French). In Italy the tambourine is similarly known as “tamburello”. In the Provence there was also a drum of the name “tambourin”, ultimately giving the present-day its name. The Provençale language is linguistically related to Catalan, by the way. The word “tambor” in Spanish (and similar words in Portuguese, Catalan and Provençale) for “drum”, derives from Arabic “tunbur” (in turn derived from Persian) originally. The Spanish word for “tambourine” is “pandereta”, in turn linguistically related to the word “bendir” for similar frame drums in North Africa.

Frame drums or tambourines?

This brings us to another confusing aspect regarding its definition. I thought of it as a general circular frame drum with bells on the side So, a small drum with bells (or jingles, or cymbals). Yet, without the drumhead (membrane), as a round “jingle bell” so to speak, it also got known under the name “tambourine”. That double meaning I was aware of..

More confusing to me (also in the Wikipedia article) was the mix-up with other “frame drums”, even without the bells. I consider those personally rather as “frame drums”. They can have similar playing styles with fingers as such, but lack the bells defining the tambourine as a whole. For the sake of this blog article, I will define the tambourines as having the side bells. Those without them I consider as “frame drums”, and are not the main theme of this post.

Overall, the “tambourines” can be of different sizes, and tend to be round, most often.

PLAYING STYLES

The playing style of the most common tambourine in Western pop music includes beating on the side (hip) of the body, on the other hand, or just shaking the tambourine. Worldwide there are varied patterns and hand and finger uses and hits on the drumheads, dependent on genres and music cultures. The use of separate fingers recur throughout, hands as a whole, and in some cultures just the hand palm is used, or the tambourine is only shaken.

Rhythmically, it varies from more “monorhyhmic” musical cultures, to a bit more syncopated, “polyrhythmic”, or swinging ones. The Arabs, other Middle Easterners and Europeans have more monorhythmic cultures, and sub-Saharan Africans more “polyrhythmic” ones, but in parts of North Africa – such as among some Berber musicians – such polyrhythmic or “swinging” (Griot culture) influences got to show, as even in some Andalusian folk music, maybe due to African or later Latin American influences.

PANDEIRO/BRAZIL

All this, makes the extensive use of the Pandeiro (Brazilian tambourine) in Afro-Brazilian music so interesting. It is a commonly used instruments there, thus in yet other musical contexts. It is commonly used in Samba, Chorro music (some call Chorro a more “sophisticated version of Samba), as well as to accompany Capoeira, along with other drums. These Afro-Brazilian genres share the 2/4 rhythmic base, as well as certain polyrhythmic characteristics, as much Afro-American music, especially with roots in the Congo or South Nigerian and Ghana regions (as most Afro-Brazilians, especially Congo/Angola and Yorubaland). Quite a step from its (probable) Middle-Eastern origins, via – as is said – Iberian (Portuguese and Galician) forerunners brought to Brazil by the Portuguese. The Pandeiro thus translated flexibly to different cultural and musical contexts.

To be clear, the pandeiro refers to the round frame drum with side bells or jingles; another small frame drum – but without bells – is also known in Brazilian music, but known as “tamborim”.

I asked someone I know who plays Afro-Brazilian music, including for Capoeira, and he explained to me how patterns he plays with the Pandeiro, on Samba, tend to be continuous, yet following the 2/4 rhythmic pattern and accents, in line with the other drums and instruments. In a subgenre of Samba, called Partido Alto – a distinct Pandeiro-playing style is employed, he also pointed out, having e.g. more slaps/hits on the drumhead/membrane, besides the cymbal shaking.

In Capoeira, he further explained, the Berimbau (musical bow) leads the rhythm that the other instruments, including drums, and often pandeiros, follow. It depends on choices by specific Mestres (“teachers”) in Capoeira schools, whether Pandeiros are used as accompaniment to the fight/dance Capoeira, though they tend to be common.

In Chorro music pandeiros are also used, while Chorro is a bit less rhythmically oriented than its relative Samba (wherein string instruments also tend to play rhythmically).

CUBA

An interesting difference with Cuba, also, where I have been several times, but did seldom see tambourine-like instruments being played in music clubs (and I visited several). Mostly “maracas” had in Cuba the shaker function in music, instead, especially in Afro-Cuban music. Neither is the small frame drum without bells (or cymbals), as e.g. used in the Puerto Rican Plena genre, really used in Cuba. I guess those that like “jingly belly” or cymbal-like shaker sounds should check other percussive cultures than the Afro-Cuban, where it is largely absent. Originally at least. This is comparable to much of sub-Saharan Africa, especially those parts where Afro-Cubans tend to have their origins mostly (the Congo region, Yorubaland, the Calabar region).. There are some “jingle bell” shakers known in sub-Saharan Africa, also “foot bell shakers”, but they drown amidst the many other shakers (of e.g. seeds).

Ned Sublette says something interesting in this regard, in his book ‘Cuba and its music : from the first drums to the mambo’ (Chicago Review Press, 2004), in relation to the spread of Afro-Cuban music to higher (White, Euro-centric) often slave-owning classes within Cuba. “..the rhythms were taken up but were shifted over from the drum to the tambourine, an instrument not associated with the vileness of the negro..”. These adapted/watered down Afro-Cuban rhythms developed since around the 18th c., and reached Argentina, and Europe (e.g. Spain, in the Habanera pattern) too.

That cultural difference between (hand) drums as African, and tambourine (European) in the quote of Sublette above, is interesting, and in fact recurring historically here and there, though it is also a somewhat simplistic distinction. The Brazilian Pandeiro, for one, obfuscated that distinction. Black Churches later too.

SPAIN

In Spain – the tambourine has – on the other hand - a long history, similar to Middle Eastern and Arab cultures. It at least goes back to the Moorish rule since the 8th c., but might have been there before (Phoenicians, Romans). It is used in various folk music forms throughout Spain, with special variants per region.

Spanish folklorists argue that the Northern half of Spain specialized for some reason a bit stronger in tambourines in its folk music than more Southern parts, but also in parts of the Central Meseta (highland) of Castile and León, and of the South (e.g. Andalusia) tambourines are quite common, albeit often less “central” in percussion than in some North Spanish forms. After all, hand-clapping and castanets – along with drums –have rhythmic functions in Jota and Fandango there too, and in South-Spanish Flamenco even feet and guitar cases.

In Northwest Spain, Galicia, a region with Celtic influences, a local tambourine (with own characteristics, such as crossed bells) developed (similar to one in Northern Portugal) and often combines with bagpipes, as in bordering Northern Portugal. More with string instruments in Central and Southern Portugal.

In the Basque country, a local tambourine called “panderoa” is used in Basque folk forms, usually combined with an accordion. The playing style in Basque music is relatively fast – with much 16th or even 32th notes (shaken) – and continuous.

In Central and Southern Spain the tambourine combines sometimes with the castanets, some drums, and guitars, and is sometimes slower, but mostly less “continuous”, having more often “closed patterns”, or emphasizing a main beat. It often interrelates with castanets, resulting in syncopation, in e.g. the Sevillana style, and other Andalusian or Extremaduran forms .. Syncopation is a bit less common in European folk music – which tends to be mostly “monorhythmic” as Arab music -, but might be an influence from the Moorish past (when there were also enslaved sub-Saharan Africans in Spain), or from Latin America and Cuba.

Overall, the tambourine's use is a bit more extensive in the Northern half of Spain, which may relate (as I learned from earlier studies) to the presence of instruments in South Spain in turn less common in North Spain, including percussion instruments that can take up the tambourine's "time keeping" role. These include the wooden castanets (though also known in Central Spain), certain bells, and a friction drum, known as "zambomba", aside from the Spanish guitar, originating in Andalusia, that can be played rhythmicallly too, and the "colonial" influence over time, e.g. the increased commonality of the (originally Afro-Peruvian) "cajon" (box drum) as time-keeper in much Flamenco. The castanets can be found in some subtypes of Flamenco, but in most not, and likewise the tambourine is not absent, but neither very "essential" or common, in South Spanish Flamenco music.

ELSEWHERE IN EUROPE

Some parts of Italy use local (smaller and larger) types of tambourines in regional styles like in South Italy, including in the well-known and popular South Italian Tarantella music genre and dance (originally from Apulia, spread all over southern Italy, Calabria, Sicily, including Naples). Like in the Basque country and South France, it often combines there with an accordion, or other drums, though with own patterns, Tarantella being a distinct (and lively) genre of its own.

It is also known in folk music of Sardinia, where it combines with a local type of flute, and other parts of Italy.

Another sign of the tambourine’s flexibility: it combines with different instruments, even in small combinations (bagpipes or accordion in North Spain, guitar and castanets in Central and South Spain, accordion and other drums in Italy and France).

This made me curious about with what instruments it combined elsewhere, or when only with vocals.

ASIA & NORTH AFRICA

In the Arab and Middle Eastern world, the “riq” (a tambourine in the classic sense) is a common and much used instrument, often even a main, “leading” percussion instrument. It usually combines with string instruments, like the Oud in Egypt and other parts of North Africa, including violins, or with (clay or stone) kettle drums like the darbuka, and vocals.

The playing styles of variants of tambourines differ again elsewhere in the Middle East, or South India and Sri Lanka, though also mostly monorhythmic, as Arabic music. In Sri Lanka, local tambourines tend to combine with local types of double-headed drums, including the Dholuk, also found in India. They respond of course to respective musical cultures, such as the complex Indian musical systems, making it for the untrained ear difficult to recognize straight rhythms, even when one is able to in even polyrhythmic Africa. Indian and Sri Lankan music is complex structurally, but not so much rhythmically, to put it simply (often basic beats).

In Jewish culture, the tambourine now known as Timbel has a long history, even connected to the tambourine’s very origins in Egypt. This also shows the “flexible route” of the tambourine over time. It once was used in religious, liturgical contexts, often therefore relatively slow and “solemn”, quite different from the connection to its use with fast dance and secular folk music, as we saw in other places.

The religious use of tambourines continue in the Islamic world, as they are still sometimes played during Quran recitations, as well as among the Christians, as the Salvation Army more or less popularized its use, that spread also to other Protestant and Evangelist churches, accompanying songs of praise. With that we now ended up in North America.

NORTH AMERICA

Likewise interesting, is the tambourine’s following journey after going from religious to secular, namely to a modern Anglo-Saxon world of “pop” music in North America: US folk music, R&B-influenced “Rock”, but even to even “whiter” Country & Western music.

US BLACK MUSIC

As said, starting with the Salvation of Army, several Protestant Churches, including Black ones in the US South, began to use tambourines much. It thus continued its original religious function in Egypt and among ancient Hebrews, though its easy use and small size might have played a role too. It thus obtained a common place in Gospel and early Soul, and with many African Americans escaping the openly racist US South, traveled to the cities in the North (New York, Detroit, Chicago, Philadephia a.o.).

There is an interesting parallel here with the harmonica or “mouth-organ”. The small metal wind instrument the harmonica, that became common in Blues, is actually of South German and Austrian origin, played there to fit local Tyrolean and other genres, often with accordions for instance. With German migrants to the US (many from South West Germany) it arrived in the US, also in parts where many (poor) African Americans lived. The latter appreciated its flexibility, practical size and, moreover, relative affordability. The playing style in “Country Blues” and later “City Blues” became of course markedly different than from the harmonica’s use in the German, European music.

Similarly, the tambourine was played differently by African Americans, than before. The tambourines became even a trademark in the sound of Motown, as I wrote elsewhere on my blog. Its link to the Black Churches – and Gospel - made it apparently popular and appreciated. Some within Motown thought it was a good idea to, besides adding a kind of pleasant “shuffle” or “swing”, also emphasize the main beat accent with that tambourine too. Apparently, Motown owner Berry Gordy thought that too. I do not really agree with that (preferring a bare, sharp “snare” drum hit), but who am I.. It became anyway part of the popular and recognizable Motown sound of bands like the Supremes, the Temptations, Smokey Robinson, and many others, and obtained generally a place in Soul music.

US AND BRITISH POP MUSIC

Perhaps due to that connection to Gospel and later Soul, tambourines became common and popular percussion instruments in the 1960s likewise in US folk, rock & roll, and country music (Bob Dylan a.o.), and British Beat music (by the Beatles and others), eclipsing often other percussion instruments. It remained common since then.

In Rock music and R&B, the “jingle bell”-type tambourine (without drumhead/membrane) became most common, as in Country. In turn, in places like Mexico, the original tambourine as in Spain (with drumhead/membrane) became more used. Moreover, while in some parts of the world (e.g. Ukraine) a beating stick is used, in Spain and in the Berber and Middle Eastern worlds, the drumhead is played with the hand and fingers.

There is apparently something about that shaken “jingling-bells”sound that many musicians in some cultures like, maybe to “glue” all patterns together. Like cymbals and hi-hats of the (trap) drum set – in time mainstream in Western Rock and pop music – the tambourine tended to play “continuous” and walking patterns during songs. Thus it got to serve – as some describe it – as a “carpet” for the other instruments and rhythms. This is a bit comparable to how the Cuban shakers (maracas) function in Salsa, for instance: continuous, hardly interrupted patterns. It “bathes” or “adorns” the rhythm/beat, rather than “varying” on or “answering” it much (notwithstanding occasional variations). This is certainly the case in Rock and Country.

JAMAICA

As a Reggae fan since my teens, I of course find it interesting how the tambourine – as part of this “flexible spread” – got used in Jamaican music genres, like Reggae.

Historically, Reggae music originated in Jamaica from earlier local genres Ska and Rocksteady around 1968, being early on influenced by both Blues and R&B (and Jazz) “swing” influences from Black US music, as well as by African retentions and local Jamaican Afro-folk music with more “polyrhythmic” qualities. In time US Soul and Gospel influenced Reggae a bit too, though some artists more than others.

Already in the first Ska songs around 1960, that following on an earlier more rural genre in Jamaica, called Mento, tambourines could on occasion be heard. Interestingly, in Mento, the “shaker” role was more played by Cuban-like maracas or shakers, with a less “jingly belly” sound. With more “urban”, Ska music, the more ”modern” or Western tambourine made its hesitant way into popular music in Jamaica, so after 1960.

Hesitant, because its use was not standard in Ska, neither in following Rocksteady or Reggae. Some musicians, percussionists, chose to use tambourines on occasion, as one of the many percussive addition options to choose from. Just as often, though, they chose other shakers, like maracas, or woodblocks, scrapers, hand drums, etcetera.

Over time tambourines became, like in US Soul and Funk, a bit more common in Reggae songs, but hardly as “standard” presence. The more extensive hi-hat drum set patterns in Reggae since 1968 (with more 16th notes, when compared to earlier, “emptier” and “metronomic” Rocksteady), made the tambourine often less essential or fundamental in most Reggae grooves, with seldom continuous/walking patterns. More often, it rather got to add a “swing” or “shuffle” feel to many Reggae grooves, or even a polyrhythmic feel, as “responding” to the other rhythmic patterns in songs.

On the other hand, the very sound of the tambourine is comparable, but not similar to the hi-hat (though both are essentially "cymbals"), so it can add an "extending" shuffling feel to the hi-hat patterns, although it might "drown" amidst full hi-hat patterns, or along other shakers in the song, or when mixed in with a soft sound, in Reggae songs. Yet, even when quite soft, it of course still has a - subtle - musical function in the whole groove, only not so much "in your face".

Again, all this is a sign of the “flexible global route” of the tambourine, to another cultural and musical context.

USE IN REGGAE

It is certainly interesting to study the tambourine’s use in Reggae. Such a study is however not easy, because the written liner notes mostly tend to state “percussion” in general, and not specific instruments. Percussionists in Jamaican music and Reggae – such as Bongo Herman, Skully, Sticky, and others - tend to be flexible in their use of a variety of percussion instruments, differing per song. In that sense there are less standards or obliged choices (or “unwritten laws”) for Jamaican percussionists, unlike in other genres, and they are more free to choose. Reggae developed besides from a mix of influences, ranging from US R&B, Black Churches, and Jazz to African polyrhythms, hand drumming, and spiritual music, as well as some Afro-Cuban influences. In Brazil and other parts of Latin America, there are more unwritten rules regarding this.

It comes down to this: you have to actually listen to Reggae songs to know whether a tambourine is used. There are no percussionists that specialize in it more than others, or artists that use it more than others. It differs per song, and perhaps album.

Like I explained before: the hi-hat patterns are relatively “full” in Reggae, therefore often fulfilling a similar “carpet” musical role, as a tambourine can do. The tambourine thus became less essential in Reggae with such full (varied 8th, 16th notes) hi-hat patterns. Yet, this differs per song and artist too: not all drum patterns in Reggae are that “hi-hat full”, and even so, some percussionists still found a creative way to add something to a groove (e.g. a “shuffle” feel, or a counter-rhythm), if they chose to use a tambourine on that song. In Reggae the membrane-less jingle tambourine is common, though some Jamaican percussionists (like Uzziah “Sticky” Thompson) said they used the other tambourine with drumhead on some recordings too.

One album where it is used relatively a lot, in combination with other instruments, is on the Culture album Harder Than The Rest. Further analysis showed that the band Culture uses the tambourine relatively often, also on other albums (e.g. Good Things and Payday).

Other artists using it include Ijahman Levi, Gregory Isaacs, the Wailing Souls, Dennis Brown, the Itals, Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, Rod Taylor – and others - but – with all these artists - more occasionally than commonly. Only on specific songs. The same applies to more recent and current artists and productions in Reggae and Dancehall (Sizzla, Chronixx, Tarrus Riley a.o., who partly reuse older Reggae riddims). It can occasionally be heard in some newer Reggae songs and Riddims, as other percussion instruments

It in any case never became a standard instrument in Reggae. Not really ignored, but at most an occasionally used one. Predictably, the Gospel influenced Toots & the Maytals used a bit more regularly tambourines, but neither on all their songs.

Tambourines are – anyway – used in some well-known songs in the Reggae world, such as Ijahman’s Jah Heavy Load, Black Uhuru's Plastic Smile, Dennis Brown’s Should I (adding a nice shuffle feel around the hi-hat pattern), the Wailing Souls’ Jah Jah Gave Us Life, Culture’s Payday and Free Again, or Peter Tosh’s Pick Myself Up.

Bunny Wailer’s Boderation is an example of the tambourine with a “counter rhythm” function, reminding of polyrhythmic patterns, also found in Ijahman Levi’s beautiful song Are We A Warrior. Elsewhere, tambourine patterns remind of the Black churches or Gospel, as there are several also in Jamaica (Black Protestant churches with music). Often subtle (due to the nature and size of the instrument, of course, but effective.

Luckily, despite some Soul or Motown influence in Jamaica, even on Studio One (they say even equipment was taken over from Motown), luckily (in my opinion) the loud tambourine on the snare (mostly accentuated on the 3 in 4/4 beats in Reggae) as in some Motown Soul was not imitated in Jamaican music: tambourines tended to play around that accent, making it to my tatste often nicer and groovier. Also when on the snare drum accent (as in Culture's Tell Me Where You Get It, or Chronixx's Most I) it was not too loud.

MYSELF

I play in and rehearse with a Netherlands-based Reggae band as a percussionist for a few years now (Flavour Coalition). I use various small and big instruments (including hand drums, scrapers, bells, rattles, etc.). The other members were mostly appreciative of my percussion additions, yet someone nonetheless asked me why I did not use so much the tambourine. It was a Reggae band, and since he knew it is used in Reggae too, he found that a pity. He noticed other percussionists (in Reggae and other bands) used it often, I hardly.

I ended up responding that it was not my preferred percussion instrument, finding the tambourine sound too “cliché” or Poppy (Euro-mainstream), something like that, I said.. I also pointed at the lacking necessity, in light of the “fuller” (and similar) role of the (drum kit’s) hi-hat in many Reggae songs. I therefore preferred some “sharper” hand drums, scrapers, blocks, or bells, or other types of shakers (like the nice Cabasa), I liked a bit more, and considered more necessary.

Apart from personal preference, my personal “musical route” in and toward percussion also would explain it. I caught the flame of my love for percussion for a large part travelling to and in Cuba (between 2001 and 2006), where I heard and saw - often up-close - many live performances of Afro-Cuban music groups, often largely acoustic, and with percussion instruments. These did in Cuba seldom include tambourines, but instead bongos, scrapers, or congas, maracas, shekere variants, etcetera.

I immediately found some of these Afro-Cuban percussion instruments groovy and intriguing. The first instrument I took lessons for, in the Netherlands, was therefore the Bongos, with the two attached cylindrical drums of different sizes, of which I liked the edgy, groovy sound, as well as its inherent flexibility. This was followed by lessons for the Conga, another hand drum instrument I more or less fell in love with, and enjoyed playing a lot, including later in improvizing jamsessions, playing different genres: in the good tradition of legendary Cuban conguero Chano Pozo, varying from Jazz, to Blues, Pop, Rock, to Salsa, Reggae, and (relatively often) Funk.

I also went to specifically Reggae jamsessions, but mostly to play congas or bongos, or some small percussion instruments, like scrapers, or wood blocks. I certainly enjoyed myself enough, and felt no need to add so much the “cliché” tambourines, even if present. I also played cylindrical kete drums, during Rastafari-inspired Nyabinghi chants, often also shakers. Again, tambourines were not common there.

Over time I learned the basics or even advanced skills in other instruments I found interesting, focusing on sub-Saharan Africa, a part of the world that intrigued me since I was a child. I delved into Yoruba, Congo and other cultures, and thus into instruments like the (Yoruba) Ashiko, Djembe, the (Nigerian) Udu, and the Talking Drum, including even taking some djembe and talking drum lessons..

Growing up as a youth, with my Spanish mother, we had a few small percussion instruments at home, such as a toy drum, bells, and castanets, but seldom (as I recall) a tambourine as such. I did enjoy the castanets’ flexibility, and picked them up later as percussionist again. Maybe the regional origin of my mother in South Spain played a role, if we would have been Galician, we maybe would have a tambourine in our house, but instead our culture approached more the Andalusian model.

Neither was my Italian father from the Tarantella areas, but from the Alpine North. He played accordion and harmonica in his youth days, he told me. Combine this whole trajectory of mine (starting in the Afro-Cuban school of percussion, sub-Saharan African interest) - and simply not stumbling upon tambourines - with the fact that I have been a Reggae fan since my teens, and in Reggae music tambourines were not unknown, but neither standard or required.. Then it is largely explained why I am not the most fanatical tambourine user of all percussionists in the Netherlands. Another part of the explanation is my personal preference..

CONCLUSION

Yet, to be clear. Though it is not my main preference, and find it a bit too well-known, I certainly do not dislike the tambourine in and of itself. I have obtained some (both with and without membrane/drumhead), used it in some compositions, or sometimes with bands and in live performances, to variate with other instruments. For instance, I use it in my Vodou-music based composition Apwoksimasyon (in Haitian music the tambourine is used sometimes), of which particularly the bell pattern was a nice challenge for me. Also I used it in a composition based on Spanish Paso Doble (Paso Doble Adelante) and e.g. one on Samba (Samba Natty), and the tambourine without drumhead also, e.g. on Kafue. Just to give some examples of my own use as composer.

I recognize and appreciate its occasional “softening” and “jingly” possibilities for – like other percussion instruments – embellishing or even strengthening a groove or rhythmical interplay.. It is on the other hand only one of the many possibilities and options within the varied world of percussion.

In addition, as is shown above: the tambourine’s history, trajectory, and spread is very interesting, showing a tremendous flexibility and resilience over time and across cultures and countries, despite (or perhaps because of) its somewhat “subtle”, understated sound. Granted, its small size played a role in its spread (they say many sailors brought it with them, across the world), but of course also its possibilities and distinctive sound.