As part of my blog I regularly discuss or quote biographies of reggae artists. On one particular post (Reggae biography time, May 2011) I point at the absence of significant biographies of reggae artists other than Bob Marley or the original Wailers. As I understood a biography of Peter Tosh is presently in the making, and there actually has appeared a biography on Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry (‘People Funny Boy’) by “reggae writer” David Katz.
BIOGRAPHICAL?
I deplored (among other names) the absence of a biography of Dennis Brown: in the 1970s and part of the 1980s one of the most popular reggae artists in Jamaica itself (and partly outside it). In Jamaica his popularity approached and later even exceeded Bob Marley’s. He influenced many current reggae artists (noticeable vocally). Well, while my statement still stands as true, there is a nuance. There has appeared a work in 2000, a year after Dennis Brown’s decease in 1999 (at sadly only the age of 42), on Brown, called ‘Deep down with Dennis Brown : cool runnings and the crown prince of reggae : a short story by Penny Reel’. This work has some biographical characteristics, but is not really a full-fledged biography, in the sense of a full, multifaceted life story of the artist as artist and person, so to speak.
The work in question is a ”short story” by UK reggae journalist Penny Reel, detailing Dennis Brown’s reception and success in the London and UK’s - underground - reggae scene. He discusses his personal experiences, meeting Dennis Brown himself among others, the acceptance of Dennis Brown releases by reggae fans in Britain and by sound systems, and the subject of reggae‘s relation to the mainstream: a theme I also find interesting as people who read this blog may know. Alongside this he gives (biographical) background information on Dennis Brown and his rise to success, though predominantly on the artist and less personal details. The story itself is written in 1979, making the time frame more limited (Dennis Brown unfortunately died relatively young, but still lived about two decades after this work).
TWO ARTISTS
You guessed it, I am going to discuss and analyze this work now in this post (in fact I have already started a bit..). But I am doing this alongside another biography, released recently (2011) of another reggae artist: Jimmy Cliff, namely the work: ‘Jimmy Cliff: an unauthorized biography’, by the already mentioned David Katz. I think comparing both works can be interesting, and I hope to show why.
Katz’s work on Cliff is more a full biography, only that Cliff at the time of writing is still alive. Furthermore, in reading it, it soon becomes clear that the reader should not expect too much personal information on Cliff. Don’t get me wrong, there is some personal information given, on his background, certain life experiences, choices, but limitedly, which is attributed to Cliff’s own reservations in this regard. The emphasis is on his released songs and albums, his musical career and rise to (international) success. This emphasis on released songs and albums - and reception thereof - is a similarity with the work on Brown.
OWN PREFERENCES
Before analysing and juxtaposing these works, my personal position should be explained, I think. I am more or less a Dennis Brown fan, especially of some of his albums. I know not all, but I do know most of his released songs, and I value his unique vocal style and accompanying music. I also liked his charisma, in that he often had a smiling, merry and jovial expression, yet still was naturally charismatic. He showed you can be both approachable and “cool” at the same time.
By contrast, I am not really a Jimmy Cliff fan. Some songs of Cliff I encountered I liked, but never too much so as to elicit my extraordinary enthusiasm. While of Brown there are quite a few songs that excite and thrill me still: Love Jah, Should I, Black Liberation (Time), Sitting & Watching, No More Will I Roam, The Prophet Rides Again, Malcolm X, Hooligan, House On The Rocks and more. Some albums I liked more than others, but that is not so strange.
The comparison between these works thus also compares a work on a artist I like more (and know more songs of) and one I like less. It is interesting to analyse how this influences how you read something: do personal preferences necessarily hinder an open mind? One would think so.
Well, to continue on this last point.. I enjoyed both works, more or less to an equal degree. Katz’s work on Cliff is well-written and structured, accessible, and with enough explanations to keep it interesting even if you do not recall or know a song. I was even tempted to search the large YouTube database to listen to some songs discussed (such as Struggling Man, a hit of sorts for Cliff in Africa); the same I did with the other work on Brown, by the way.
FOCUS
A main difference is the broader focus of the book on Cliff, compared to Penny Reel’s work. Broader not deeper. I opine that the work on Dennis Brown goes deeper, offering more profound insight, even if of a more limited time frame or locale. Katz’s work has a larger time frame, and has an international focus: mentioning Cliff’s career across the globe. Penny Reel’s work appears as short-sighted in comparison: the London underground reggae scene, broadened now and then to the whole of Britain, and especially in the 1970s, although discussing here and there reggae in Britain in the 1960s. Yet, the British reggae scene was then relatively big internationally (probably one of the biggest outside of Jamaica), and in a sense pioneering - after Jamaica that is -, making deep insight in it potentially interesting beyond merely Londoners’ nostalgia.
Penny Reel has a personal style, which is never too annoying. No vague, parochial references only to be understood by an “in group”, no, even certain clubs or scenes in London are made all in all insightful. In a sense, this makes the work more interesting . The perspective is then from the reggae (underground) scene in London, the fan base of “real” reggae (not commercialized mainstream spin-offs). The work makes evident Dennis Brown’s relative popularity within this scene, such as formalized though Black Echoes charts, where Brown’s song and album releases appear with mostly success, although to differing degrees.
Also, the proceedings of Dennis Brown’s own label he set up, DEB records (from his initials: Dennis Emmanuel Brown), with artists as roots singer Junior Delgado, lady group 15, 16, 17, and also releasing songs by Gregory Isaacs (e.g. Mr. Know It All), and the DEB releases’ relative success in Britain provide interesting reading.
DIFFERENCES AND SIMILARITIES
Katz’s work on Cliff focuses more on the mainstream world outside the reggae scene: Cliff reached this mainstream more than Brown, even in countries like Brazil. This has partly to do with musical or even cultural approaches. Dennis Brown was a Rastafarian, initiated specifically by members of the Twelve Tribes of Israel mansion within Rastafari. Jimmy Cliff is not a Rasta, but a Muslim. This is a difference, although Cliff’s Islam was initially of the Nation of Islam kind (picked up in the US), and probably influenced by Jamaican Rastafari (members of which he worked and socialized with): namely an Islam more catered to the black African, than to the Arab world. Still, Cliff seemed all in all more open to non-Jamaican influences in his music, especially later in his career. On most of Cliff’s later albums, reggae, soul, funk, pop and other genres interchanged, while Dennis Brown rarely left the “reggae riddim” (though covering some soul and other songs, but reworked to reggae). Lyrically, Brown tended to variate between “message” and “love” tunes, but it remained authentic Jamaican reggae.
Penny Reel’s work on Brown has some stylistic differences with the work on Cliff, maybe partly because it is presented as a short story and partly a personalized journalistic account, while Katz’s book is more a formal, “academic” biography. Yet, I found both works entertaining and insightful in their own way. I had to get used, though, to Penny Reel’s writing style. Maybe this was because I have gotten used more to "academic" biographies than to the free-floating, creative writing style like Penny Reel’s. Penny Reel makes (very) long sentences, with several - often more than two or even three - subordinate clauses. This makes it a bit less accessible, but admittedly I used to write a time ago like this - “comma writing” - as well (still trying to improve my “terse” writing), and maybe because of this I had some sympathy for it. I got used to it, however, and got equally captivated by the story/text. Katz’s writing style is in comparison nonetheless maybe more apparently structured and terse, and accessible.
Thus, there are clear differences in content and style between these two works on Jamaican popular musical artists. But there are also similarities. One of these is the centrality of songs and albums in the accounts. In fact, a large part of both books consist of deep song analysis (or album analysis), which I can appreciate. It shows the authors take the music seriously, have knowledge on its context and place within reggae (both authors can be called Jamaican music experts without reserve). It reminded me of the sincere interest and outright passion painting enthusiasts show when deeply and academically analyzing a painting by, say, Picasso. For me this represents what is called a ”good read”. Also concerts (or tours) are analysed in both works. The story around the tours of Jimmy Cliff in Nigeria and Africa, where Cliff was quite popular, is for example engaging.
MEDIA
Further, Penny Reel peaks (especially) at the end of his account, with a manifesto of sorts. He discusses why – and how - real reggae is not accepted by the mainstream media in Britain; only watered-down commercial reggae, or novelty acts, get(s) easily played on the radio. That’s why he (Penny Reel) predicts that Dennis Brown cannot break through to the mainstream in Britain, even though Brown’s hit song Money In My Pocket eventually reached the British pop chart. He discusses this for the 1960s and 1970s (the text was written in 1979), but it is in fact still relevant today. An engaging and convincing "essayistic" part of Penny Reel’s account!
Since it is written in 1979 and delves into the (London) music scene, including - unlike Katz’s work - practical aspects (e.g. availability of a record in stores), I got to realize another thing from Penny Reel’s story. This is from the pre-digital age! Actually, it felt kind of refreshing. A disc of a song (12 inch or otherwise) was pressed in certain quantities in Jamaica, sometimes too few to meet demand, brought (sometimes informally) to Britain, a sound system got hold of these vinyl discs exclusively and presented its audience thus the new track. Tested in practice for an exclusive audience, so to speak. It seems a world apart from nowadays when so much is available easily, even the most obscure, independent releases in Jamaican music through Internet: mp3’s or even on YouTube. You don’t have to go out to a club with a sound system to hear a new tune, you can get it at home. This I find convenient and pleasant of course, but it also makes it a bit less special.
Actually, going to a club to hear and/or dance to new reggae songs seems like a nice night out to me, but maybe privately enjoying music is preferred by many (and is easier), especially if going out to music clubs is not really a part of one’s lifestyle (anymore?).
I can recommend both works. They give intriguing insights in the developing careers of two Jamaican musical artists in relation to the mainstream, the music industry, but also the fans and audience: in Jamaica and other countries. Flaws are only that you do not get to know too much about the person and life behind the musical artist from these books. Both books can be described as mostly (interestingly) annotated discographies, general overviews of the artists' careers, combined with accounts on reception and the music scene, and some biographical information.
Deep down with Dennis Brown: Penny Reel . – 102 p. – United Kingdom : Drake Bros Publications, 2000. ISBN: 978-0954195908
Jimmy Cliff : an unauthorized biography: David Katz . – 224 p. – Northampton, MA : Interlink Books, 2011. ISBN: 978-1566568692
vrijdag 3 februari 2012
dinsdag 3 januari 2012
Video clips and reggae
It has partly to do with an idea I have. As yet I only “play” with the idea, but it can become concrete. There’s even an above average chance that it will actually come to fruition. The idea is: making a video of a song of mine.
The song – of which a video can be made - is there. In fact, several are. For some reason (that I myself do not really know) I try to keep my songwriters’ persona apart from my other persona’s, such as this “blog persona”. Now, upon reflection I think it is a bit silly: neither is a “persona”. I do not have a persona: writing songs and my specific love for music is part of my person, myself as a human being. Writing about certain themes as well. The same “I”. I tried in the past to present a persona, but could not keep it up: luckily there is not too much of a “con man” in me. ”I’ll be myself and no one else”, as Dennis Brown sang in his song 'Tribulation'.
With video I mean moving image, including something of a story and or symbols – even with a script or scenario -, not the slideshows of photos that are so common on YouTube. Visually and artistically enhancing the song, that’s the video’s ultimate goal. With this theme I also continue on my last blog post (on documentary films). But I will not expound on a plan or idea that is not concrete yet. The song in question is neither made public yet. Therefore I am not going to discuss this potential video or content thereof. (You’ll hear and see it, when it’s ready and public, haha).
Since I am a big reggae fan, and also to a degree an expert on it (love and knowledge are intertwined for me), I thought it would be a good idea to analyse “reggae videos”: the song’s genre I want to make a video for is also reggae. I could also analyse all video clips of all popular music genres, but that is simply too much, I think. Yet it can be relevant. That is why I chose an intermediate solution: this post is on broad aspects of pop music video clips in general, but specifically focuses on reggae video clips: what characteristics recur?, what do good (reggae) videos make? etcetera...
This way even if (almost) no one reads this post or blog (which is quite probable), I still maybe get ideas and background info for my own prospective video. Ha!
REGGAE AND VIDEO CLIPS
My nascent and developing love for reggae music owed nothing to the videoclip. It was in the vinyl and cassette years that I started to listen to reggae: Bob Marley, Wailing Souls, Culture, Burning Spear, Israel Vibration, Gregory Isaacs, Dr. Alimantado, Yellowman...Mostly roots and early dancehall. I am talking about the mid-to late 1980s. It was about the sound, the music, the words, the “feel”...The visual came into play, however. I liked it when on album covers photos of the artists making the album were shown: to see what artists look like, expressions on faces, and sometimes even something of the surroundings and an atmosphere. I was somewhat disappointed when an album cover (front, back, nor inside sleeve) showed not the artists, and even more when there was neither another clear image (just a white or blue cover for instance was a bummer: Gregory Isaacs’ 1984 album Easy for instance was fine, with some good songs -'Tenement Yard'! - , but had a cold and boring, unimaginative blue cover).
But these disappointments or irritations were mostly marginal. It was and is about the music and the idea. Mainstream and more commercial genres had video clips, so I reasoned. Then, during the late 1980s and 1990s this was largely the case. Video clips just had become more common in the course of the 1980s (reason why Bob Marley never actually made a video clip himself), but became especially the norm in more commercial genres: Duran Duran, Genesis, David Bowie, Michael Jackson, Prince and other artists made (or supervised) video clips made especially to accompany a song on the market. This had to do with big companies, commercial goals, and also, well, racist policies of MTV etcetera. Outside of the reggae person’s realm, you might say...
MAINSTREAM
Temporarily, however, I later became more fascinated with video clips. Especially those that I saw on Yo! MTV Raps. Mainstream, but not too much, let’s say. Especially early, “old school” hip hop often had video clips that seemed more real and authentic than those of other pop genres. I liked Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five’s 'The Message', and songs and videos of Public Enemy, Boogie Down Productions, Poor Righteous Teachers, Eric B & Rakim, Ice T.. These seem to portray real life and social problems, I thought. That is the difference: specialized in reggae I did not need video clips to get me into reggae. On the other hand, I got into some hip hop through video clips.
Then there were occasional video clips in other genres that somehow fascinated me, such as e.g. Al Jarreau’s 'Mornin’': a nice song with a video fitting its mood and lyrics (of a man in love), including the happy cartoon birdie, although bordering on cliché. It worked for me. Even outside of “Black” music: there were videos that were as effective as they were atmosphere-enhancing. I was intrigued by Ultravox’s video for 'Vienna', I found it fitted well the song - which I liked – and its mood (even if I did not know what neither song nor video was exactly about,..I still not..), as well as The Stranglers’ video for the nice 'Golden Brown', seemingly referring to Western views on Egypt. Spandau Ballet’s videos, on the other hand, seemed too overdone and pretentious for me, as were some videos by Phil Collins (about whose vocal skills I’m neither impressed, but that’s another issue), and e.g. David Bowie’s video for the 'Ashes to Ashes', a song I liked, the video less (too distracting, maybe). More recently I thought Nirvana’s video for 'In Bloom' was funny and moving.
Still remaining more a reggae than a hip hop (or any other more mainstream genre) man: I largely kept disassociating the “video clip” from the reggae scene.
CROSSED OVER
Actually there were some reggae video clips around since the 1980s, meaning actually scripted video clips. A nice example is 'Amigo' by Black Slate from 1980, a celebratory tune that reached the mainstream (if marginally), even with its Rastafarian content. I did not really see it when it was a hit (a “summer hit” it was called) in Britain or the Netherlands, but years later, and I liked it. A nice video, scripted but kept simple, and with the Black Slate band members enthusiastically participating, rendering it somehow genuine. The increased dancing at the end fits the celebratory tenor of the song well: the lyrics are about how Jah is your good friend and guide. No special effects were used, but I did not miss these.
Eddy Grant does make reggae, but his 'Electric Avenue' is not reggae, yet borders on it in some way (Caribbean vibe?, social criticism?). I liked this video (the song as well), though it had “vague” aspects and special effects which related to the lyrics, but maybe not everyone got.
Since the late 1990s some changes in the music industry, modernization, internationalization, or otherwise, made that more reggae video clips started to appear. It had partly to do with a slight connection to the mainstream some reggae obtained. Not even reggae as a whole, but certain crossover artists (like before once in a while with Third World and others) – or artists trying to cross over - made scripted video clips: Shaggy, Maxi Priest, Shabba Ranks, even Pliers and Chaka Demus. Even videos of Black Uhuru ('Great Train Robbery') or Sly & Robbie had crossover aspects. Sometimes they seemed influenced by hip hop videos..
OUTSIDE OF THE MAINSTREAM
This continued and increased after 2000. Mainly mainstream-related, but “democratization of media and means” (to put it some way) in the music industry, also in Jamaica, made that video clips appeared even for not obviously crossover attempts. Think artists like Sizzla, Capleton, I-Wayne, Anthony B, Chezidek, Lutan Fyah, Fantan Mojah, Richie Spice, or Natty King. Artists who, so to speak, “keep it real”, and are outside the international pop mainstream (MTV, Grammy, that kind of shit). Real and Rastafari-inspired reggae, in this case part of what is called the New Roots movements. These video clips are mostly okay, I think: some kept very simple, some more complex, mostly not too distracting, and with the artists appearing most often naturally behaving. These videos are rarely shown on the most commercial stations (MTV), but at times on other stations, even in the US (such as those aimed at the “Black” market). Richie Spice’s video for 'Righteous Youths' seems well-balanced: right degree of symbols (youth, Rastafari) relating to the message, and the music performance as central.
Video clips originally had a commercial rather than an artistic goal (promote the song on television), and the question is then: does reggae – real reggae – need video clips in this day and age? Promoting is not always bad, and this way other audiences can be reached, while still keeping it authentic. It is also nice to be able to take a good look at the artist or musician who is singing a song or performing.
Important is that the visual should support the song/music, not the other way around. This touches on the same theme I discussed in my previous post: the visual should add, NOT distract from the content. In fact: the music should ideally speak for itself! Examples of distractions are too superficial special effects, sexual references (e.g. sexy dressed/undressed and sexy moving women or men) when the song is not even about sex, or strange camera focuses/viewpoints or filmic effects unrelated to the song. If I want to be distracted..it should be from something bad or boring, NOT from a good song. Another example of distraction: (unnatural) overacting, such as by the artists: seemingly more consumed by the video than by the song. The music should come first! Visually good dancing to the song’s riddim, on the other hand, can enhance the listening experience..
DO WE NEED VIDEO CLIPS?
Do we need video clips then? Well, if they do not distract they can certainly add something to the song’s “feel”, such as through the artists, images, atmospheres, proper symbols (for much roots songs Rastafari symbols are relevant), city- or landscapes, or cultural expressions. This can even – if well done – add to the authenticity. As a combined art form so to speak.
For somebody “deep” into reggae - like myself - the promotion function of a reggae video is maybe not necessary. If I find, say, Sizzla’s 'Chant Dem Down' a “crucial” song (and I do) and do not have it on mp3 or CD, I can always check it on YouTube, where the vast amount of music continues to surprise me. Connect the computer with the amplifier of my stereo and “ram it!”. The video on YouTube probably is accompanied by a mere short text, a photo of an album cover, or of Sizzla, a slide show, or sometimes even a well-scripted slide show with Rastafari imagery and effects (check I Wayne’s 'Smart Attack' on YouTube for instance), but that is not that important: I just want to primarily “listen” to the song.
On the other hand: I heard Sizzla’s 'Chant Dem Down' in a reggae-minded club. Maybe a video clip on visual media would help others get to know a song or artist they did not know, but like. It is all about spreading your music as an artist. There is not necessarily something wrong with that, as long as the video does not “distract” too much, keeps it authentic and real, shares the message and intention of the song (or even strengthens the intent, if possible), and even broadens the listening experience. That is an interesting artistic challenge, besides the promotional purpose.
Is the video fitting with the artist as a person, with the song, with the lyrics (when discussing, or in real life often in a place/town... show it), and with musical aspects? I guess there should be authentic ways to make video clips accompanying songs: well-scripted, artifice only if necessary, touching, moving, even educational, or funny (if appropriate)?
EXAMPLES?
I aim at being as original as I can. I do not intend to copy other video clips, so I am not planning to use “models” as such. I do admit, however, that elements of certain videos “inspire” me toward something in the same vein. The mentioned 'Amigo' for instance, “travelling” on the road (as in Sizzla’s 'Thank You Mama' video), flash-backs, walking in rural areas/nature (like Fantan Mojah’s video for 'Stronger'). This Fantan Mojah’s video is a good example of letting the music come first: the video does not distract, but adds. Low-key with few special effects. Or, a clear story line, such as in the video of Natty King’s catchy song 'Mr Greedy', also may be effective.
Of course a “parody” of sorts is possible, but a reggae “video clip parody” I know also happens to be of a (albeit loose) cover version: I am talking about Sizzla’s 'Subterranean Homesick Blues', a nice dancehall cover/reworking of the Bob Dylan song, with a similar video: artist with words or texts on papers and even also a “cool” or “hip” guy on the other side of the street from the artist apparently talking with someone. The surroundings looked different, however (more Caribbean thus relevant). My song is not a cover (the vocal part), not even a loose one, so such a “model” video is I think irrelevant in this case.
Too much special - or too special - effects are maybe not my thing (I am not very visually oriented). Moreover, these probably do not fit the introspective lyrics of the specific song I have in mind. If and when I ever get to making the video, I am curious how a video would visually support the song: if I appear in it: should I act to a degree (though I prefer to behave naturally) – with clothes I usually don’t wear, things I don’t do, places I don’t go -, or just be myself? If I act, portray a role.. can irony make that more palpable? Singing or dancing to my song in the video I do not mind, but that is not what I mean with "acting". Further..is humour appropriate? What symbols fit the lyrics and how are these visualized? And a few special effects can still have an additional value, if not excessive... I’ll see (hopefully).....
The song – of which a video can be made - is there. In fact, several are. For some reason (that I myself do not really know) I try to keep my songwriters’ persona apart from my other persona’s, such as this “blog persona”. Now, upon reflection I think it is a bit silly: neither is a “persona”. I do not have a persona: writing songs and my specific love for music is part of my person, myself as a human being. Writing about certain themes as well. The same “I”. I tried in the past to present a persona, but could not keep it up: luckily there is not too much of a “con man” in me. ”I’ll be myself and no one else”, as Dennis Brown sang in his song 'Tribulation'.
With video I mean moving image, including something of a story and or symbols – even with a script or scenario -, not the slideshows of photos that are so common on YouTube. Visually and artistically enhancing the song, that’s the video’s ultimate goal. With this theme I also continue on my last blog post (on documentary films). But I will not expound on a plan or idea that is not concrete yet. The song in question is neither made public yet. Therefore I am not going to discuss this potential video or content thereof. (You’ll hear and see it, when it’s ready and public, haha).
Since I am a big reggae fan, and also to a degree an expert on it (love and knowledge are intertwined for me), I thought it would be a good idea to analyse “reggae videos”: the song’s genre I want to make a video for is also reggae. I could also analyse all video clips of all popular music genres, but that is simply too much, I think. Yet it can be relevant. That is why I chose an intermediate solution: this post is on broad aspects of pop music video clips in general, but specifically focuses on reggae video clips: what characteristics recur?, what do good (reggae) videos make? etcetera...
This way even if (almost) no one reads this post or blog (which is quite probable), I still maybe get ideas and background info for my own prospective video. Ha!
REGGAE AND VIDEO CLIPS
My nascent and developing love for reggae music owed nothing to the videoclip. It was in the vinyl and cassette years that I started to listen to reggae: Bob Marley, Wailing Souls, Culture, Burning Spear, Israel Vibration, Gregory Isaacs, Dr. Alimantado, Yellowman...Mostly roots and early dancehall. I am talking about the mid-to late 1980s. It was about the sound, the music, the words, the “feel”...The visual came into play, however. I liked it when on album covers photos of the artists making the album were shown: to see what artists look like, expressions on faces, and sometimes even something of the surroundings and an atmosphere. I was somewhat disappointed when an album cover (front, back, nor inside sleeve) showed not the artists, and even more when there was neither another clear image (just a white or blue cover for instance was a bummer: Gregory Isaacs’ 1984 album Easy for instance was fine, with some good songs -'Tenement Yard'! - , but had a cold and boring, unimaginative blue cover).
But these disappointments or irritations were mostly marginal. It was and is about the music and the idea. Mainstream and more commercial genres had video clips, so I reasoned. Then, during the late 1980s and 1990s this was largely the case. Video clips just had become more common in the course of the 1980s (reason why Bob Marley never actually made a video clip himself), but became especially the norm in more commercial genres: Duran Duran, Genesis, David Bowie, Michael Jackson, Prince and other artists made (or supervised) video clips made especially to accompany a song on the market. This had to do with big companies, commercial goals, and also, well, racist policies of MTV etcetera. Outside of the reggae person’s realm, you might say...
MAINSTREAM
Temporarily, however, I later became more fascinated with video clips. Especially those that I saw on Yo! MTV Raps. Mainstream, but not too much, let’s say. Especially early, “old school” hip hop often had video clips that seemed more real and authentic than those of other pop genres. I liked Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five’s 'The Message', and songs and videos of Public Enemy, Boogie Down Productions, Poor Righteous Teachers, Eric B & Rakim, Ice T.. These seem to portray real life and social problems, I thought. That is the difference: specialized in reggae I did not need video clips to get me into reggae. On the other hand, I got into some hip hop through video clips.
Then there were occasional video clips in other genres that somehow fascinated me, such as e.g. Al Jarreau’s 'Mornin’': a nice song with a video fitting its mood and lyrics (of a man in love), including the happy cartoon birdie, although bordering on cliché. It worked for me. Even outside of “Black” music: there were videos that were as effective as they were atmosphere-enhancing. I was intrigued by Ultravox’s video for 'Vienna', I found it fitted well the song - which I liked – and its mood (even if I did not know what neither song nor video was exactly about,..I still not..), as well as The Stranglers’ video for the nice 'Golden Brown', seemingly referring to Western views on Egypt. Spandau Ballet’s videos, on the other hand, seemed too overdone and pretentious for me, as were some videos by Phil Collins (about whose vocal skills I’m neither impressed, but that’s another issue), and e.g. David Bowie’s video for the 'Ashes to Ashes', a song I liked, the video less (too distracting, maybe). More recently I thought Nirvana’s video for 'In Bloom' was funny and moving.
Still remaining more a reggae than a hip hop (or any other more mainstream genre) man: I largely kept disassociating the “video clip” from the reggae scene.
CROSSED OVER
Actually there were some reggae video clips around since the 1980s, meaning actually scripted video clips. A nice example is 'Amigo' by Black Slate from 1980, a celebratory tune that reached the mainstream (if marginally), even with its Rastafarian content. I did not really see it when it was a hit (a “summer hit” it was called) in Britain or the Netherlands, but years later, and I liked it. A nice video, scripted but kept simple, and with the Black Slate band members enthusiastically participating, rendering it somehow genuine. The increased dancing at the end fits the celebratory tenor of the song well: the lyrics are about how Jah is your good friend and guide. No special effects were used, but I did not miss these.
Eddy Grant does make reggae, but his 'Electric Avenue' is not reggae, yet borders on it in some way (Caribbean vibe?, social criticism?). I liked this video (the song as well), though it had “vague” aspects and special effects which related to the lyrics, but maybe not everyone got.
Since the late 1990s some changes in the music industry, modernization, internationalization, or otherwise, made that more reggae video clips started to appear. It had partly to do with a slight connection to the mainstream some reggae obtained. Not even reggae as a whole, but certain crossover artists (like before once in a while with Third World and others) – or artists trying to cross over - made scripted video clips: Shaggy, Maxi Priest, Shabba Ranks, even Pliers and Chaka Demus. Even videos of Black Uhuru ('Great Train Robbery') or Sly & Robbie had crossover aspects. Sometimes they seemed influenced by hip hop videos..
OUTSIDE OF THE MAINSTREAM
This continued and increased after 2000. Mainly mainstream-related, but “democratization of media and means” (to put it some way) in the music industry, also in Jamaica, made that video clips appeared even for not obviously crossover attempts. Think artists like Sizzla, Capleton, I-Wayne, Anthony B, Chezidek, Lutan Fyah, Fantan Mojah, Richie Spice, or Natty King. Artists who, so to speak, “keep it real”, and are outside the international pop mainstream (MTV, Grammy, that kind of shit). Real and Rastafari-inspired reggae, in this case part of what is called the New Roots movements. These video clips are mostly okay, I think: some kept very simple, some more complex, mostly not too distracting, and with the artists appearing most often naturally behaving. These videos are rarely shown on the most commercial stations (MTV), but at times on other stations, even in the US (such as those aimed at the “Black” market). Richie Spice’s video for 'Righteous Youths' seems well-balanced: right degree of symbols (youth, Rastafari) relating to the message, and the music performance as central.
Video clips originally had a commercial rather than an artistic goal (promote the song on television), and the question is then: does reggae – real reggae – need video clips in this day and age? Promoting is not always bad, and this way other audiences can be reached, while still keeping it authentic. It is also nice to be able to take a good look at the artist or musician who is singing a song or performing.
Important is that the visual should support the song/music, not the other way around. This touches on the same theme I discussed in my previous post: the visual should add, NOT distract from the content. In fact: the music should ideally speak for itself! Examples of distractions are too superficial special effects, sexual references (e.g. sexy dressed/undressed and sexy moving women or men) when the song is not even about sex, or strange camera focuses/viewpoints or filmic effects unrelated to the song. If I want to be distracted..it should be from something bad or boring, NOT from a good song. Another example of distraction: (unnatural) overacting, such as by the artists: seemingly more consumed by the video than by the song. The music should come first! Visually good dancing to the song’s riddim, on the other hand, can enhance the listening experience..
DO WE NEED VIDEO CLIPS?
Do we need video clips then? Well, if they do not distract they can certainly add something to the song’s “feel”, such as through the artists, images, atmospheres, proper symbols (for much roots songs Rastafari symbols are relevant), city- or landscapes, or cultural expressions. This can even – if well done – add to the authenticity. As a combined art form so to speak.
For somebody “deep” into reggae - like myself - the promotion function of a reggae video is maybe not necessary. If I find, say, Sizzla’s 'Chant Dem Down' a “crucial” song (and I do) and do not have it on mp3 or CD, I can always check it on YouTube, where the vast amount of music continues to surprise me. Connect the computer with the amplifier of my stereo and “ram it!”. The video on YouTube probably is accompanied by a mere short text, a photo of an album cover, or of Sizzla, a slide show, or sometimes even a well-scripted slide show with Rastafari imagery and effects (check I Wayne’s 'Smart Attack' on YouTube for instance), but that is not that important: I just want to primarily “listen” to the song.
On the other hand: I heard Sizzla’s 'Chant Dem Down' in a reggae-minded club. Maybe a video clip on visual media would help others get to know a song or artist they did not know, but like. It is all about spreading your music as an artist. There is not necessarily something wrong with that, as long as the video does not “distract” too much, keeps it authentic and real, shares the message and intention of the song (or even strengthens the intent, if possible), and even broadens the listening experience. That is an interesting artistic challenge, besides the promotional purpose.
Is the video fitting with the artist as a person, with the song, with the lyrics (when discussing, or in real life often in a place/town... show it), and with musical aspects? I guess there should be authentic ways to make video clips accompanying songs: well-scripted, artifice only if necessary, touching, moving, even educational, or funny (if appropriate)?
EXAMPLES?
I aim at being as original as I can. I do not intend to copy other video clips, so I am not planning to use “models” as such. I do admit, however, that elements of certain videos “inspire” me toward something in the same vein. The mentioned 'Amigo' for instance, “travelling” on the road (as in Sizzla’s 'Thank You Mama' video), flash-backs, walking in rural areas/nature (like Fantan Mojah’s video for 'Stronger'). This Fantan Mojah’s video is a good example of letting the music come first: the video does not distract, but adds. Low-key with few special effects. Or, a clear story line, such as in the video of Natty King’s catchy song 'Mr Greedy', also may be effective.
Of course a “parody” of sorts is possible, but a reggae “video clip parody” I know also happens to be of a (albeit loose) cover version: I am talking about Sizzla’s 'Subterranean Homesick Blues', a nice dancehall cover/reworking of the Bob Dylan song, with a similar video: artist with words or texts on papers and even also a “cool” or “hip” guy on the other side of the street from the artist apparently talking with someone. The surroundings looked different, however (more Caribbean thus relevant). My song is not a cover (the vocal part), not even a loose one, so such a “model” video is I think irrelevant in this case.
Too much special - or too special - effects are maybe not my thing (I am not very visually oriented). Moreover, these probably do not fit the introspective lyrics of the specific song I have in mind. If and when I ever get to making the video, I am curious how a video would visually support the song: if I appear in it: should I act to a degree (though I prefer to behave naturally) – with clothes I usually don’t wear, things I don’t do, places I don’t go -, or just be myself? If I act, portray a role.. can irony make that more palpable? Singing or dancing to my song in the video I do not mind, but that is not what I mean with "acting". Further..is humour appropriate? What symbols fit the lyrics and how are these visualized? And a few special effects can still have an additional value, if not excessive... I’ll see (hopefully).....
zaterdag 3 december 2011
Documentaries or films?
What does a good documentary film make? I guess that is a very personal issue. The difference with the fiction/feature films makes that at the very least one would want to learn something of a documentary, about unknown phenomena, unknown worlds, unknown themes. Educational before entertainment.
DOCUMENTARY-INTENSIVE
The last few months happened to be relatively very “documentary-intensive” for me. Not in the sense that I scanned at my own home all television channels for eventual documentaries, but more that there were festivals in Amsterdam with especially international documentaries, that is (mostly) about other countries than the Netherlands and other continents than Europe. There was recently the International Documentary Festival in Amsterdam (IDFA), held from 16 to 27 November in several theatres in Amsterdam. The IDFA is actually the largest International Documentary Festival in the world, I read. The 2011 edition had about a total of 200.000 visitors, even more than the 2010 one.
Smaller but not less interesting there was before this the Africa In The Picture festival held also in Amsterdam (concentrated in one theatre) from 6 to 9 October. This included films about Africa and the African diaspora, responding thus to my main interests. Not coincidentally of course the films/documentaries I chose to see at the IDFA also mainly dealt with African countries and the diaspora: some African countries and some Caribbean countries. Some of these documentaries premiered in the Netherlands, Europe, or even world wide. Now looking back at my “documentary period” a sort of a combined review seems appropriate to me.
VISUAL
I will review the documentaries keeping in mind that documentaries are meant to be educational and portray certain phenomena and/or environments in a good, engaging way. I also heard that for a “formal” documentary actually a written script is required, so it mostly does not tend to be merely haphazard, spontaneous filming. What’s related is somehow scripted, but this can be of course in different ways. I find this interesting. Does the visual dominate the message/content too much? Or does the visual: landscapes, streets, people’s faces (and the sonic of course) help explain the content/histories/situations, make it only more vivid, more real? This intrigues me as I also have encountered the negative sides of the “too visual media” during my life. Superficial Hollywood movies tend to be dominated by the visual, much of other visual media as well. The visual turns into a gimmick, limiting the intellectual. That is my objection. Maybe I am not a very visually-oriented person myself, or – flattering myself – it has to do with intelligence, but inclinations aside, I think I may have a point. A guy with glasses becomes a “nerd” because of certain movies or series and not someone with e.g. myopia. Let alone the racial and cultural stereotypes Hollywood tends to stimulate and confirm!
COMBINED REVIEW
I think it is interesting to analyze how the documentaries I saw combine the visual and the content, to at the end focus on the content, concluding thus: what have I learnt, how did I extend my knowledge on certain themes? Extend is also a good word, because, like I said, I chose documentaries that were on themes and or countries I have relatively more interest for: read Africa and the Caribbean. Further my Rastafari(an) beliefs were influential.
The documentaries I saw:
AFRICA IN THE PICTURE festival:
-The First Rasta/le Premier Rasta (about early Rasta movement leader/pioneer Leonard Howell)
-Twilight Revelations, episodes in the life and times of Haile Selassie
IDFA:
-A Good Man (on a play in the US on Abraham Lincoln)
-When The Drum Is Beating (on a long-standing Haitian musical group)
-Little Heaven (on an Ethiopian orphanage for children with HIV)
-Lagos : Notes Of A City
-Hinterland - A Child Soldier’s Road Back to South Sudan
-Motherland or Death (on present-day Cuba, specifically Havana)
I found all these documentaries (mostly from 2011) interesting, though to differing degrees. You have explanatory and you have explanatory. Some documentaries were not that self-explanatory, and questions in the Q & A (afterward!) with the director at times gave more information I sometimes found too crucial to not be mentioned in the documentary itself. I come back to the theme of the visual: without information biased fantasy and prejudice come into play. This was the case with a few documentaries, but especially in the one on the Nigerian city Lagos. Several children could not walk and moved about on a trolley. Oddly enough their condition was never explained. In the Q & A afterward the German director explained as a response to a question that these children had polio, very common in (Islamic) northern parts in Nigeria where religious leaders (imams) prevented useful vaccinations against polio, making Northern Nigeria one of the most polio-intensive regions in the world, and many migrated from there to Lagos in South Nigeria. Why not explain this in the documentary: it is too interesting? That there was migration from the North to Lagos was on the other hand (a bit) mentioned in the documentary.
Some of these documentaries seemed to be visual secondary: only to illustrate or accompany the content, the history. I do not have too much objections against this, maybe because I am not very visually-oriented myself, like I said before. Still: landscapes, facial expressions, cityscapes all can add crucial information sole texts cannot. The latter was the case with the story of a South Sudanese refugee (and former child soldier) who lived in the Netherlands. The contrast between Dutch and South Sudanese spheres became relevant, illustrating the effects of physical and mental journeys. Psychological studies have concluded that traumatic (or impactful) episodes - like migrations - are in remembrance often very “visual”.
FIRST RASTA
As a Rastafari-adherent I was of course also interested in the documentary on the First Rasta, Leonard Howell, and the one on Haile Selassie’s reign.
The documentary The First Rasta, based on a book (2005) by Hélène Lee, documented the rise of the Rasta movement in Jamaica, around an influential early Rasta leader: Leonard Howell. It was all in all interesting, I thought, but had in my opinion a few flaws. It was probably scripted as well, but seemed nonetheless very haphazardly made. The documentary had no very clear structure, other than the admittedly interesting biography of Howell. This biography was enough by itself to keep it engaging, but not quite. Again, it could be more explanatory. Visually some atmosphere-enhancing - related but not connected to the subject - audiovisual material was used. This is very common, is sometimes done right, but can be somewhat misleading as well. Think in this case of people dancing in a club in Harlem, New York around the 1920s, when it was an active centre of black America (Howell was there too, and Marcus Garvey lived and worked there). There seemed to have been no films of Howell in Harlem so it is understandable that other people and places were shown, but still.. Since, as the director/writer Hélène Lee explained (again: afterward), there was only one moving image of Howell (on a ship, he worked and travelled around the world as mariner), therefore much of this symbolic, quasi-relevant imagery was used. Understandable to a degree, and it was combined with interviews requiring less artifice.
The lack of artifice was also evident in the documentary on Haile Selassie’s reign in Ethiopia, from 1930 to 1975, consisting mainly of interviews with persons with leading positions during his reign, or having worked with Selassie. It did not seem very spectacular, but was interesting nonetheless. Insightful also because Selassie's reign has been criticized by some (although including biased parties) as undemocratic, despotic. The documentary gave a balanced, and overall positive (and human) view of Selassie as person and emperor. In addition, it explained the difficulties of ruling and initiating policies in a developing country. Especially Selassie’s important contribution to education in Ethiopia seems hard to deny. As is his important contribution to African unity.
ARTIFICE OR NOT
The documentary on the Haitian band (around for a long time with changing members) seemed only limitedly scripted, as it interchanged interviews with apparently not too much focus in the questions (political then personal then social), with images of the band playing, music, cityscapes, and tragedies. Despite a few flaws it managed to give a good impression of something that worked/continued in Haiti – a long-standing musical group – despite political failures and tragedies, such as the recent earthquake of January 2011, killing many people.
Not far from Haiti, the documentary on Havana, Cuba - Motherland or Death -gave me a strong sense of déjà-vu. I saw similarities with other documentaries I have seen before on Havana and Cuba. I could have expected this as the description of the documentary read within a sentence : “the photogenic streets of Havana”. This could presage a focus on the atmospheric at the cost of substance/content. And it did, but only partly, since the photogenic – if in ruins – baroque, colonial architecture of Havana’s streets figured prominently, but of course - since it was a documentary - the focus was on interviews and the daily lives of Cubans in the city. This was here and there insightful, though – there I go again – not very explanatory. The what was presented, how they sought to make ends meet despite economic hardships, but hardly why. An impression rather than insight.
Less atmospheric though informative was the documentary, set in Illinois, USA, on the play theatre maker/choreographer Bill T. Jones (known for his musical Fela!) made about Abraham Lincoln. ‘The making of’ so to speak, with adequate attention to the historical role of Abraham Lincoln, along with the practicing, dancing, creative choices, and preparing by Jones and dancers/performers. The focus was on individual behaviour, I guess, with little artifice.
The documentary on the Ethiopian orphanage, in Addis Ababa, – Little Heaven - also centered on people and behaviour, on the children, also with little if any artifice. The camera seemed not to be acknowledged anymore by the children in the documentary. The Belgian director explained afterward that he had been living in Addis Ababa quite some time, even understood most of the Amharic language, and had for a long time been acquainting himself with the children in the documentary. In the course of time the children apparently got used to the older Belgian white man, even with a camera in private places as their bed rooms. The documentary did give a good impression of how the children lived, their problems, and gave at least some explanation, though a bit too limited.
CONCLUSION
Some documentaries gave mainly impressions, some were more explanatory. A good balance was seldom found, in my opinion. I am by no means an expert on documentary films, but I know if and when I learn, when I obtain insight and to what degree. To chill back and lose myself in atmospheric imagery is not enough for me. At least when it comes to documentary films: I expect these to be educational in some sense. Not only raising questions, but answering some as well. Most achieved to do this, that is true. Yet, I also noticed that the more atmospheric, the more the focus on images and the visual, the less explanation was given, especially without the Q & A, when the director/maker does not happen to be present.
The two city tales, on Lagos and Havana, were examples of less explaining because of the focus on imagery. More films than documentary films, so to speak. The First Rasta was more informative, partly because it started off from a deeper, philosophical and sociological premise: the birth of the Rasta movement. Artifice could not limit that too much. The “human portraits” among and as part of the documentaries stayed at times a bit too superficial as some personal backgrounds were not discussed, but were at the end insightful with regard to human behaviour and social conditions in which they find themselves, also in different countries, such as Sudan (or now South Sudan), or the US.
I am not a “figures man” – language, culture and social sciences always have had more my interest than math or numbers - but some more illustrative figures could have been useful in some of these documentaries, just to show the impact of phenomena (Aids, mortality, war, migrations etcetera). That is another critique I can give.
In hindsight I do not see the “documentary film period” I went through in October and November of 2011as a waste of time, not at all, despite some flaws and missed opportunities here and there in the documentaries. I think I made a good choice and these documentary films are all worth checking out. It’s just that some of them were not as “documentary” as can be expected...
DOCUMENTARY-INTENSIVE
The last few months happened to be relatively very “documentary-intensive” for me. Not in the sense that I scanned at my own home all television channels for eventual documentaries, but more that there were festivals in Amsterdam with especially international documentaries, that is (mostly) about other countries than the Netherlands and other continents than Europe. There was recently the International Documentary Festival in Amsterdam (IDFA), held from 16 to 27 November in several theatres in Amsterdam. The IDFA is actually the largest International Documentary Festival in the world, I read. The 2011 edition had about a total of 200.000 visitors, even more than the 2010 one.
Smaller but not less interesting there was before this the Africa In The Picture festival held also in Amsterdam (concentrated in one theatre) from 6 to 9 October. This included films about Africa and the African diaspora, responding thus to my main interests. Not coincidentally of course the films/documentaries I chose to see at the IDFA also mainly dealt with African countries and the diaspora: some African countries and some Caribbean countries. Some of these documentaries premiered in the Netherlands, Europe, or even world wide. Now looking back at my “documentary period” a sort of a combined review seems appropriate to me.
VISUAL
I will review the documentaries keeping in mind that documentaries are meant to be educational and portray certain phenomena and/or environments in a good, engaging way. I also heard that for a “formal” documentary actually a written script is required, so it mostly does not tend to be merely haphazard, spontaneous filming. What’s related is somehow scripted, but this can be of course in different ways. I find this interesting. Does the visual dominate the message/content too much? Or does the visual: landscapes, streets, people’s faces (and the sonic of course) help explain the content/histories/situations, make it only more vivid, more real? This intrigues me as I also have encountered the negative sides of the “too visual media” during my life. Superficial Hollywood movies tend to be dominated by the visual, much of other visual media as well. The visual turns into a gimmick, limiting the intellectual. That is my objection. Maybe I am not a very visually-oriented person myself, or – flattering myself – it has to do with intelligence, but inclinations aside, I think I may have a point. A guy with glasses becomes a “nerd” because of certain movies or series and not someone with e.g. myopia. Let alone the racial and cultural stereotypes Hollywood tends to stimulate and confirm!
COMBINED REVIEW
I think it is interesting to analyze how the documentaries I saw combine the visual and the content, to at the end focus on the content, concluding thus: what have I learnt, how did I extend my knowledge on certain themes? Extend is also a good word, because, like I said, I chose documentaries that were on themes and or countries I have relatively more interest for: read Africa and the Caribbean. Further my Rastafari(an) beliefs were influential.
The documentaries I saw:
AFRICA IN THE PICTURE festival:
-The First Rasta/le Premier Rasta (about early Rasta movement leader/pioneer Leonard Howell)
-Twilight Revelations, episodes in the life and times of Haile Selassie
IDFA:
-A Good Man (on a play in the US on Abraham Lincoln)
-When The Drum Is Beating (on a long-standing Haitian musical group)
-Little Heaven (on an Ethiopian orphanage for children with HIV)
-Lagos : Notes Of A City
-Hinterland - A Child Soldier’s Road Back to South Sudan
-Motherland or Death (on present-day Cuba, specifically Havana)
I found all these documentaries (mostly from 2011) interesting, though to differing degrees. You have explanatory and you have explanatory. Some documentaries were not that self-explanatory, and questions in the Q & A (afterward!) with the director at times gave more information I sometimes found too crucial to not be mentioned in the documentary itself. I come back to the theme of the visual: without information biased fantasy and prejudice come into play. This was the case with a few documentaries, but especially in the one on the Nigerian city Lagos. Several children could not walk and moved about on a trolley. Oddly enough their condition was never explained. In the Q & A afterward the German director explained as a response to a question that these children had polio, very common in (Islamic) northern parts in Nigeria where religious leaders (imams) prevented useful vaccinations against polio, making Northern Nigeria one of the most polio-intensive regions in the world, and many migrated from there to Lagos in South Nigeria. Why not explain this in the documentary: it is too interesting? That there was migration from the North to Lagos was on the other hand (a bit) mentioned in the documentary.
Some of these documentaries seemed to be visual secondary: only to illustrate or accompany the content, the history. I do not have too much objections against this, maybe because I am not very visually-oriented myself, like I said before. Still: landscapes, facial expressions, cityscapes all can add crucial information sole texts cannot. The latter was the case with the story of a South Sudanese refugee (and former child soldier) who lived in the Netherlands. The contrast between Dutch and South Sudanese spheres became relevant, illustrating the effects of physical and mental journeys. Psychological studies have concluded that traumatic (or impactful) episodes - like migrations - are in remembrance often very “visual”.
FIRST RASTA
As a Rastafari-adherent I was of course also interested in the documentary on the First Rasta, Leonard Howell, and the one on Haile Selassie’s reign.
The documentary The First Rasta, based on a book (2005) by Hélène Lee, documented the rise of the Rasta movement in Jamaica, around an influential early Rasta leader: Leonard Howell. It was all in all interesting, I thought, but had in my opinion a few flaws. It was probably scripted as well, but seemed nonetheless very haphazardly made. The documentary had no very clear structure, other than the admittedly interesting biography of Howell. This biography was enough by itself to keep it engaging, but not quite. Again, it could be more explanatory. Visually some atmosphere-enhancing - related but not connected to the subject - audiovisual material was used. This is very common, is sometimes done right, but can be somewhat misleading as well. Think in this case of people dancing in a club in Harlem, New York around the 1920s, when it was an active centre of black America (Howell was there too, and Marcus Garvey lived and worked there). There seemed to have been no films of Howell in Harlem so it is understandable that other people and places were shown, but still.. Since, as the director/writer Hélène Lee explained (again: afterward), there was only one moving image of Howell (on a ship, he worked and travelled around the world as mariner), therefore much of this symbolic, quasi-relevant imagery was used. Understandable to a degree, and it was combined with interviews requiring less artifice.
The lack of artifice was also evident in the documentary on Haile Selassie’s reign in Ethiopia, from 1930 to 1975, consisting mainly of interviews with persons with leading positions during his reign, or having worked with Selassie. It did not seem very spectacular, but was interesting nonetheless. Insightful also because Selassie's reign has been criticized by some (although including biased parties) as undemocratic, despotic. The documentary gave a balanced, and overall positive (and human) view of Selassie as person and emperor. In addition, it explained the difficulties of ruling and initiating policies in a developing country. Especially Selassie’s important contribution to education in Ethiopia seems hard to deny. As is his important contribution to African unity.
ARTIFICE OR NOT
The documentary on the Haitian band (around for a long time with changing members) seemed only limitedly scripted, as it interchanged interviews with apparently not too much focus in the questions (political then personal then social), with images of the band playing, music, cityscapes, and tragedies. Despite a few flaws it managed to give a good impression of something that worked/continued in Haiti – a long-standing musical group – despite political failures and tragedies, such as the recent earthquake of January 2011, killing many people.
Not far from Haiti, the documentary on Havana, Cuba - Motherland or Death -gave me a strong sense of déjà-vu. I saw similarities with other documentaries I have seen before on Havana and Cuba. I could have expected this as the description of the documentary read within a sentence : “the photogenic streets of Havana”. This could presage a focus on the atmospheric at the cost of substance/content. And it did, but only partly, since the photogenic – if in ruins – baroque, colonial architecture of Havana’s streets figured prominently, but of course - since it was a documentary - the focus was on interviews and the daily lives of Cubans in the city. This was here and there insightful, though – there I go again – not very explanatory. The what was presented, how they sought to make ends meet despite economic hardships, but hardly why. An impression rather than insight.
Less atmospheric though informative was the documentary, set in Illinois, USA, on the play theatre maker/choreographer Bill T. Jones (known for his musical Fela!) made about Abraham Lincoln. ‘The making of’ so to speak, with adequate attention to the historical role of Abraham Lincoln, along with the practicing, dancing, creative choices, and preparing by Jones and dancers/performers. The focus was on individual behaviour, I guess, with little artifice.
The documentary on the Ethiopian orphanage, in Addis Ababa, – Little Heaven - also centered on people and behaviour, on the children, also with little if any artifice. The camera seemed not to be acknowledged anymore by the children in the documentary. The Belgian director explained afterward that he had been living in Addis Ababa quite some time, even understood most of the Amharic language, and had for a long time been acquainting himself with the children in the documentary. In the course of time the children apparently got used to the older Belgian white man, even with a camera in private places as their bed rooms. The documentary did give a good impression of how the children lived, their problems, and gave at least some explanation, though a bit too limited.
CONCLUSION
Some documentaries gave mainly impressions, some were more explanatory. A good balance was seldom found, in my opinion. I am by no means an expert on documentary films, but I know if and when I learn, when I obtain insight and to what degree. To chill back and lose myself in atmospheric imagery is not enough for me. At least when it comes to documentary films: I expect these to be educational in some sense. Not only raising questions, but answering some as well. Most achieved to do this, that is true. Yet, I also noticed that the more atmospheric, the more the focus on images and the visual, the less explanation was given, especially without the Q & A, when the director/maker does not happen to be present.
The two city tales, on Lagos and Havana, were examples of less explaining because of the focus on imagery. More films than documentary films, so to speak. The First Rasta was more informative, partly because it started off from a deeper, philosophical and sociological premise: the birth of the Rasta movement. Artifice could not limit that too much. The “human portraits” among and as part of the documentaries stayed at times a bit too superficial as some personal backgrounds were not discussed, but were at the end insightful with regard to human behaviour and social conditions in which they find themselves, also in different countries, such as Sudan (or now South Sudan), or the US.
I am not a “figures man” – language, culture and social sciences always have had more my interest than math or numbers - but some more illustrative figures could have been useful in some of these documentaries, just to show the impact of phenomena (Aids, mortality, war, migrations etcetera). That is another critique I can give.
In hindsight I do not see the “documentary film period” I went through in October and November of 2011as a waste of time, not at all, despite some flaws and missed opportunities here and there in the documentaries. I think I made a good choice and these documentary films are all worth checking out. It’s just that some of them were not as “documentary” as can be expected...
donderdag 3 november 2011
Crucial reggae songs on slavery
“Crucial” is meant double here as it has in Jamaican and/or reggae parlance also the meaning of “cool” or “excellent”, alongside the standard English meaning of “very important”. Both meanings are relevant as I delve into the theme of lyrics in reggae music and the “history of slavery”: how do reggae artists discuss this, in most cases their and Jamaica’s, history. What are informative as well as impressive songs about slavery in reggae?
I hope that many people will know that reggae is mostly known for the socially conscious, often Rastafarian lyrics, and therefore also deals with black history, historical injustices, Africa and other themes. That’s why I’m going to discuss the how and not the if.
SERIES ON SLAVERY
This was further partly influenced by a recent and current discussion that arose in the country where I reside, the Netherlands. There a series discussing (Dutch) slavery history was aired on television starting in September 2011 and consisting of 5 episodes. The documentary series called De Slavernij (Dutch for Slavery) was presented as groundbreaking, comprehensive, and serious. Renowned Dutch historians on Suriname, the Caribbean and the Dutch slavery history advised the makers of the series.
To be short, the series met with a lot of criticism. Other historians, some with a Surinamese background, argued that the view presented of the Dutch involvement in trans-Atlantic slavery was too much from a White, Dutch perspective: too trifling and downplaying, inappropriately compared, and “white-washed”, i.e. made seem less bad or horrendous than the ”crime against humanity” which the United Nations recognized trans-Atlantic slavery to be in 2001.
Main – or best-known - critic was Sandew Hira (writer’s name for Dew Baboeram), a historian with a Surinamese background. He called the way of thinking of the advisors and historians behind the series “colonial”. Sandew Hira discusses this, according to him, colonial perspective of certain Dutch historians on his website http://www.iisr.nl (in Dutch).
I found this an interesting debate, though it at times became too personal. Either way I thought Sandew Hira had some good points, as did other critics of the series. For instance, already in the first episode of De Slavernij, colonial slavery in the Caribbean was more or less compared to the not ideal working conditions of present-day illegal Polish labourers in certain Dutch companies. Such inappropriate comparisons with “modern slavery”, albeit also worse cases than of the Polish, occurred constantly and too much, as was the excessive and irrelevant contextualizing within the generally harsher European societies of the time. Child labour, intolerance, and extreme penalties among Dutch people were mentioned almost as much as Atlantic slavery was actually discussed. Something had to be obfuscated, it seemed. Cruel and harsh mass slavery on racial grounds as part of Dutch history was too unpleasant to recognize apparently. Not just the papist, opportunistic Portuguese and Spanish zealots of the time, or the arrogant British, but also we, the saintly, tolerant Dutch actually traded in and had slaves! The self-image of the Netherlanders is mostly that of a cool, progressive country. This history does not fit in with that.
The attention to trans-Atlantic slavery, or enslavement, of Africans in the stricter historical sense in the series showed this same tendency to downplay the horrors. The clear and speaking fact that there was a mortality surplus among slaves (more died than were born) in Suriname, and most Caribbean colonies, was not even mentioned! Instead someone said about conditions on plantations that slaves got through the day as with other jobs. This, even if partly true, is superfluous. People, as a surviving skill, tend to try to get through periods and not lose themselves in desperation. Also a prostitute forced by her pimp to be raped in different ways by clients about 8 times a day “tries to get through the day” as did girls kidnapped to be sex slaves of which there were cases in e.g. Austria.
BLACK PERSPECTIVE
Besides this, in this post I wish to focus on one aspect of this discussion: that of perspective. Sandew Hira deplores the fact that there is an absence of Black Studies departments at Dutch universities as there are in the US and Britain, and he therefore calls for this. A black perspective, part of an effort to “decolonize” the mind and slavery historiography. He quotes Bob Marley (actually Marcus Garvey, who Marley in turn quoted) by stating “emancipate yourself from mental slavery”. This was from Marley’s famous song ‘Redemption Song’. I’m going to use this known song of Marley as a starting point for my discussion of such a “Black perspective”, namely slavery (history) in reggae songs and lyrics. From Jamaica, where the large majority descend from African slaves brought there by force. Of course also beyond Marley: I’m a reggae fan, not just (not even primarily) a Bob Marley fan.
I nonetheless start with ‘Redemption Song’. Jamaican Marcus Garvey – main prophet of the Rastafari and Black Power thinker - wrote and spoke a lot about slavery, describing – quite correctly also from a scholarly perspective – the historical trajectory of slavery in the West Indies, but also built his philosophies around it. One of the most impressive and inspirational was Garvey’s view to how the painful slavery past can be used to arise black people in the present. Despite hardships, high mortality and suffering, a part of the slaves survived to give a future to their children and grandchildren and other descendants: these must therefore make the most of their present in the world. As a tribute to the struggling ancestors. An interesting and uplifting take.
Marley’s ‘Redemption Song’, a song from 1981, has an equally wise quote from Garvey: ”emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our mind”, with partly the same uplifting message. Due to the international influence of Marley, the quality of the song and lyrics, and the fact that it was the latest studio recording of Marley before he died (adding to its dramatic feel) makes 'Redemption Song' unavoidable to mention as “crucial reggae song on slavery”.
Musically I liked it, but I actually liked the full instrumental (non-solo guitar) version of ‘Redemption Song’ better, but that’s a matter of taste. I’m in good company though: Marley slightly preferred that fuller version also (yet producer Chris Blackwell advised to add a solo-guitar song on the Uprising album). The lyrics are undisputably strong: describing the history of slavery, and how an own cultural strength helped black people to survive it: “it’s all I ever had” as maybe the dramatic lyrical highpoint. But there are several other equally impressive songs within reggae. I focus on the roots reggae heyday of and around the (late) 1970s, but not limited to that period. Let’s proceed.
Junior Byles, an idiosyncratic and talented artist, made the classic album Beat Down Babylon in 1972 with Lee “Scratch” Perry as producer. The lyrics on this album are mostly Rastafari-related and “conscious”, but two songs deal more directly with the slavery past: the beautiful ‘Place Called Africa’ and ‘I’ve Got A Feeling’. ‘Place Called Africa’ deals with Africa and how the memory of slavery survived in oral tradition passed from mother to child. The mother tells the painful slavery history taking them away from Africa (significantly: the mother tells not “they stole our ancestors on a ship” but instead “they stole us on a ship. We had to work and slave each day ETC”). Also here there is a dramatic highpoint in this song, as the mother breaks down and cries telling this story and the child responds “mama please don’t cry”.
The song ‘I’ve Got A Feeling’ has the informative and strong lines “I’ve been robbed of everything, because of the colour of my skin” and “all my life I’ve been bound and chained, and now I don’t even know what’s my name”. The sad history but taken to the present and identified in the present. There is also an uplifting message, partly in ‘Place Called Africa’ (“a brighter sun has come today”), but these lyrics emphasize the sad history and the consequences.
Other lyrics emphasize the uplifting message much more, in combination with the slavery history. As an uplifting highpoint so to speak. A good example of this is I think the Twinkle Brothers’ song ‘Rasta Pon Top’. Like many good songs or musical pieces ‘Rasta Pon Top’ has what can be termed a dramatic development. I mentioned such dramatic highpoints in other songs already, but in ‘Rasta Pon Top’ it is the chorus line: after describing slavery’s oppression, abuse, and rape the chorus goes: ‘Rasta Pon Top’ (background vocals), lead vocal: “we gwine walk pon dem ETC” (the table has turned, so to speak). Rastafari as an answer to 400 years of slavery and oppression: which I think is not a mere interpretation, but a fact.
REPATRIATION
Marcus Garvey was in favour of repatriation to the motherland Africa for black people, sceptical as he was about the possibilities for full and free development for black people in the white-dominated West (colonies and former colonies), such as the US, Caribbean, or Latin America. Repatriation to Africa also is a central tenet in Rastafari beliefs. Some see it as actual, if often eventual, physical return and migration to Africa, especially Ethiopia (Zion), others maybe see it more as (at least) symbolic or even for some (also) after death (some replace Christian Heaven with Zion). It remains in whatever way part of the “upliftment” for black people and Rastas: leaving out of Babylon (the Western world), and back to ancestral Africa.
Of course there is a connection with the slavery past: Babylon stole them from Africa and brought them to the West to start with. The connection - direct or indirect - is there as there is a distinct conception of time and of identification. Marley sang “Old pirates yes them rob I”, not “old pirates stole my foreparents”. Foreparents are us today (not separate from I), then is now, we are still not free (mental slavery), we (I an I) cannot be free inna Babylon, that’s why we (I an I) must return to Africa. That is how the repatriation call is most commonly related, though there is variation on this theme. Current singer/deejay Jah Mason, a Bobo Ashanti Rasta, chats/toasts militantly: “same place they take me from they better take me right back”). Also some other, and earlier, songs from the 1970s make a more direct connection between slavery then (how it began) and repatriation now. Sugar Minott’s ‘Africa Is The Black Man’s Home’ being an example, or also the Mighty Diamonds beautiful ‘Africa’ (a hit single in Jamaica in 1976).
Most common is the connection that is broader - intertwining present, past, and future - with also a focus on the present in Babylon, i.e. not wearing chains, but still not free. To cultural alienation, current oppression and poverty, though also related to slavery history. Actually similar to what Garvey said and did. Songs like Culture’s ‘Black Star Liner Must Come’ and ‘Too Long In Slavery’, or Burning Spear’s ‘African Postman’ and ‘African Teacher’. So does Dennis Brown’s ‘Jah Can Do It’. Also the classic Mighty Diamonds tune ‘Blackman’ thus intertwines past, present, and future.
I hope that many people will know that reggae is mostly known for the socially conscious, often Rastafarian lyrics, and therefore also deals with black history, historical injustices, Africa and other themes. That’s why I’m going to discuss the how and not the if.
SERIES ON SLAVERY
This was further partly influenced by a recent and current discussion that arose in the country where I reside, the Netherlands. There a series discussing (Dutch) slavery history was aired on television starting in September 2011 and consisting of 5 episodes. The documentary series called De Slavernij (Dutch for Slavery) was presented as groundbreaking, comprehensive, and serious. Renowned Dutch historians on Suriname, the Caribbean and the Dutch slavery history advised the makers of the series.
To be short, the series met with a lot of criticism. Other historians, some with a Surinamese background, argued that the view presented of the Dutch involvement in trans-Atlantic slavery was too much from a White, Dutch perspective: too trifling and downplaying, inappropriately compared, and “white-washed”, i.e. made seem less bad or horrendous than the ”crime against humanity” which the United Nations recognized trans-Atlantic slavery to be in 2001.
Main – or best-known - critic was Sandew Hira (writer’s name for Dew Baboeram), a historian with a Surinamese background. He called the way of thinking of the advisors and historians behind the series “colonial”. Sandew Hira discusses this, according to him, colonial perspective of certain Dutch historians on his website http://www.iisr.nl (in Dutch).
I found this an interesting debate, though it at times became too personal. Either way I thought Sandew Hira had some good points, as did other critics of the series. For instance, already in the first episode of De Slavernij, colonial slavery in the Caribbean was more or less compared to the not ideal working conditions of present-day illegal Polish labourers in certain Dutch companies. Such inappropriate comparisons with “modern slavery”, albeit also worse cases than of the Polish, occurred constantly and too much, as was the excessive and irrelevant contextualizing within the generally harsher European societies of the time. Child labour, intolerance, and extreme penalties among Dutch people were mentioned almost as much as Atlantic slavery was actually discussed. Something had to be obfuscated, it seemed. Cruel and harsh mass slavery on racial grounds as part of Dutch history was too unpleasant to recognize apparently. Not just the papist, opportunistic Portuguese and Spanish zealots of the time, or the arrogant British, but also we, the saintly, tolerant Dutch actually traded in and had slaves! The self-image of the Netherlanders is mostly that of a cool, progressive country. This history does not fit in with that.
The attention to trans-Atlantic slavery, or enslavement, of Africans in the stricter historical sense in the series showed this same tendency to downplay the horrors. The clear and speaking fact that there was a mortality surplus among slaves (more died than were born) in Suriname, and most Caribbean colonies, was not even mentioned! Instead someone said about conditions on plantations that slaves got through the day as with other jobs. This, even if partly true, is superfluous. People, as a surviving skill, tend to try to get through periods and not lose themselves in desperation. Also a prostitute forced by her pimp to be raped in different ways by clients about 8 times a day “tries to get through the day” as did girls kidnapped to be sex slaves of which there were cases in e.g. Austria.
BLACK PERSPECTIVE
Besides this, in this post I wish to focus on one aspect of this discussion: that of perspective. Sandew Hira deplores the fact that there is an absence of Black Studies departments at Dutch universities as there are in the US and Britain, and he therefore calls for this. A black perspective, part of an effort to “decolonize” the mind and slavery historiography. He quotes Bob Marley (actually Marcus Garvey, who Marley in turn quoted) by stating “emancipate yourself from mental slavery”. This was from Marley’s famous song ‘Redemption Song’. I’m going to use this known song of Marley as a starting point for my discussion of such a “Black perspective”, namely slavery (history) in reggae songs and lyrics. From Jamaica, where the large majority descend from African slaves brought there by force. Of course also beyond Marley: I’m a reggae fan, not just (not even primarily) a Bob Marley fan.
I nonetheless start with ‘Redemption Song’. Jamaican Marcus Garvey – main prophet of the Rastafari and Black Power thinker - wrote and spoke a lot about slavery, describing – quite correctly also from a scholarly perspective – the historical trajectory of slavery in the West Indies, but also built his philosophies around it. One of the most impressive and inspirational was Garvey’s view to how the painful slavery past can be used to arise black people in the present. Despite hardships, high mortality and suffering, a part of the slaves survived to give a future to their children and grandchildren and other descendants: these must therefore make the most of their present in the world. As a tribute to the struggling ancestors. An interesting and uplifting take.
Marley’s ‘Redemption Song’, a song from 1981, has an equally wise quote from Garvey: ”emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our mind”, with partly the same uplifting message. Due to the international influence of Marley, the quality of the song and lyrics, and the fact that it was the latest studio recording of Marley before he died (adding to its dramatic feel) makes 'Redemption Song' unavoidable to mention as “crucial reggae song on slavery”.
Musically I liked it, but I actually liked the full instrumental (non-solo guitar) version of ‘Redemption Song’ better, but that’s a matter of taste. I’m in good company though: Marley slightly preferred that fuller version also (yet producer Chris Blackwell advised to add a solo-guitar song on the Uprising album). The lyrics are undisputably strong: describing the history of slavery, and how an own cultural strength helped black people to survive it: “it’s all I ever had” as maybe the dramatic lyrical highpoint. But there are several other equally impressive songs within reggae. I focus on the roots reggae heyday of and around the (late) 1970s, but not limited to that period. Let’s proceed.
Junior Byles, an idiosyncratic and talented artist, made the classic album Beat Down Babylon in 1972 with Lee “Scratch” Perry as producer. The lyrics on this album are mostly Rastafari-related and “conscious”, but two songs deal more directly with the slavery past: the beautiful ‘Place Called Africa’ and ‘I’ve Got A Feeling’. ‘Place Called Africa’ deals with Africa and how the memory of slavery survived in oral tradition passed from mother to child. The mother tells the painful slavery history taking them away from Africa (significantly: the mother tells not “they stole our ancestors on a ship” but instead “they stole us on a ship. We had to work and slave each day ETC”). Also here there is a dramatic highpoint in this song, as the mother breaks down and cries telling this story and the child responds “mama please don’t cry”.
The song ‘I’ve Got A Feeling’ has the informative and strong lines “I’ve been robbed of everything, because of the colour of my skin” and “all my life I’ve been bound and chained, and now I don’t even know what’s my name”. The sad history but taken to the present and identified in the present. There is also an uplifting message, partly in ‘Place Called Africa’ (“a brighter sun has come today”), but these lyrics emphasize the sad history and the consequences.
Other lyrics emphasize the uplifting message much more, in combination with the slavery history. As an uplifting highpoint so to speak. A good example of this is I think the Twinkle Brothers’ song ‘Rasta Pon Top’. Like many good songs or musical pieces ‘Rasta Pon Top’ has what can be termed a dramatic development. I mentioned such dramatic highpoints in other songs already, but in ‘Rasta Pon Top’ it is the chorus line: after describing slavery’s oppression, abuse, and rape the chorus goes: ‘Rasta Pon Top’ (background vocals), lead vocal: “we gwine walk pon dem ETC” (the table has turned, so to speak). Rastafari as an answer to 400 years of slavery and oppression: which I think is not a mere interpretation, but a fact.
REPATRIATION
Marcus Garvey was in favour of repatriation to the motherland Africa for black people, sceptical as he was about the possibilities for full and free development for black people in the white-dominated West (colonies and former colonies), such as the US, Caribbean, or Latin America. Repatriation to Africa also is a central tenet in Rastafari beliefs. Some see it as actual, if often eventual, physical return and migration to Africa, especially Ethiopia (Zion), others maybe see it more as (at least) symbolic or even for some (also) after death (some replace Christian Heaven with Zion). It remains in whatever way part of the “upliftment” for black people and Rastas: leaving out of Babylon (the Western world), and back to ancestral Africa.
Of course there is a connection with the slavery past: Babylon stole them from Africa and brought them to the West to start with. The connection - direct or indirect - is there as there is a distinct conception of time and of identification. Marley sang “Old pirates yes them rob I”, not “old pirates stole my foreparents”. Foreparents are us today (not separate from I), then is now, we are still not free (mental slavery), we (I an I) cannot be free inna Babylon, that’s why we (I an I) must return to Africa. That is how the repatriation call is most commonly related, though there is variation on this theme. Current singer/deejay Jah Mason, a Bobo Ashanti Rasta, chats/toasts militantly: “same place they take me from they better take me right back”). Also some other, and earlier, songs from the 1970s make a more direct connection between slavery then (how it began) and repatriation now. Sugar Minott’s ‘Africa Is The Black Man’s Home’ being an example, or also the Mighty Diamonds beautiful ‘Africa’ (a hit single in Jamaica in 1976).
Most common is the connection that is broader - intertwining present, past, and future - with also a focus on the present in Babylon, i.e. not wearing chains, but still not free. To cultural alienation, current oppression and poverty, though also related to slavery history. Actually similar to what Garvey said and did. Songs like Culture’s ‘Black Star Liner Must Come’ and ‘Too Long In Slavery’, or Burning Spear’s ‘African Postman’ and ‘African Teacher’. So does Dennis Brown’s ‘Jah Can Do It’. Also the classic Mighty Diamonds tune ‘Blackman’ thus intertwines past, present, and future.
SLAVERY AS HISTORY LESSON
Actually, most common in Rastafari-inspired reggae lyrics is such an intertwining of past, present, and future. This of course makes philosophically and even rationally sense. Yet a focus on historical epochs by themselves, are also not uncommon. Burning Spear’s ‘Slavery Days’ has such an approach, with history as the main focus. Not the only focus, because the line “some of us survived, showing that we are still alive” includes the present, which is almost unavoidable. Tetrack’s ‘Only Jah Jah Know’ (“how we survived”) has a similar historical focus, but also with a reference to the present. Worthy of mention as more historical is the Mighty Diamonds’ nice ‘Cat O’Nine’, its title referring to a type of whip used during slavery.
The Abyssinians ‘Declaration Of Rights’ in turn connects the slavery past (“Look how long they had us in chains, held us in bondage ETC’) with upliftment in the present and future (singing “Get up and fight for your rights”). The Abyssinians’ ‘African Race’ in turn has a more historical focus, as does Eek-A-Mouse’s for him untypical rootsy song ‘Do You Remember’ (“those days of slavery”).
Jah judgment and Amagidion (Armageddon) also is included as the wicked man at the end will have to pay for their oppression and enslavement, pay a price on Jah judgment day as Gregory Isaacs sings on his more history-focussed song ‘Slave Market’. Also more historical, though in present tense, is Isaacs strong tune ‘Slave Master’, with the lyrics set on a plantation.
NEW ROOTS
New Roots, as the current group of Rastafari-inspired, conscious deejays or singers - often of the Bobo Ashanti mansion - is called, think artists like Sizzla, Lutan Fyah, the already mentioned Jah Mason, Richie Spice, Bushman, Capleton, Chezidek, or I-Wayne, follow broadly the same thematic lines as the earlier roots artists. That is not so strange, since these all fit within the Rastafarian worldview and philosophy. Calls for repatriation, remembrance of slavery, current continuing oppression of blacks (Babylon now using brains instead of chains) all recur, and similarly intertwine. The presentation and metaphors, such as an increased focus on “bun fyah”, may differ partly from before, the themes however remain largely similar. Chezidek gives an interesting account of how violence started with colonialism and slavery, continuing in the present, in his song ‘Who Start’ (2009).
CONCLUSION
Slavery is what Rastafarianism is an answer to. Trans-Atlantic slavery was forced labour, but combined with cultural alienation. It included the forced transport from Africans to another continent, destruction of large parts of the culture and community bonds (though partly revived or maintained), and even loss of Africans’ family names, replaced with European ones. Rastafari was mainly a way to restore black people’s cultural identity, restore pride in the own race, and through this the social position. This combined with theological aspects with Haile Selassie (Jah) as god and symbol of black and African independence, and a rereading of the White-manipulated Bible from a Black perspective. All along the lines of Marcus Garvey’s views and prophecies. With slavery the cultural alienation began, so this painful history is intrinsically part of the movement.
Much roots reggae is Rastafari-influenced and/or Garvey-influenced and this explains the lyrics. Slavery is seldom discussed as a closed historical topic, only perhaps on some songs, whereas other songs of the same artists (or even album) discuss it broader: slavery was then, followed by continuing oppression by the same wicked Babylon, so there is a need for upliftment through repatriation and African pride. As I said the past, the present reality, and the future are intertwined, inseparable. It makes sense as there is still racial inequality in e.g. Caribbean societies. Lighter-skinned people are still to be found in higher positions than darker-skinned people, relatively more residing in the ghettos. One of the direct heritages of slavery.
This is a black perspective that is regarding intellectual form and expressions typical for Rastafari-inspired people (and artists), but in deeper meaning more broadly present among Afro-Caribbean or Afro-American people, though to differing degrees: some are more fooled or influenced by Babylon, so to speak. Injustice began with slavery and was therefore essential (unfortunately) for the current identity and struggles.
This existential role of the slavery history differs in many cases from the distanced, trifling role white historians attribute to the history. They can afford to, without questioning their own being. Maybe they, in relation to historical facts, only have to moderate an inflated national self-pride (English or Dutch were also evil in history), but that is not that hard to deal with, not something to lose even a minute of sleep over. Much less existential or essential therefore than for black people as descendants of deracinated slaves in the Americas. This difference in perspective on this history seems to me therefore a matter of worldview, of sensed identity, as well as of social position.
REGGAE SONGS ON SLAVERY MENTIONED
The following 20 songs thus form a list worth checking out for people who do not know them. They are only some of many songs treating slavery in reggae, but I think they are good examples and representative. They are also for the most part great (lyrically and musically “crucial”).
-Bob Marley & the Wailers – Redemption Song (from album Uprising, 1981)
-Junior Byles – I’ve Got A Feeling (from album Beat Down Babylon, 1972)
-Junior Byles – Place Called Africa (from album Beat Down Babylon, 1972)
-Twinkle Brothers – Rasta Pon Top (from album Rasta Pon Top, 1975)
-Sugar Minott – Africa Is The Black Man’s Home (from album Ghetto-ology, 1979)
-Mighty Diamonds – Africa (from album Right Time, 1976)
-Mighty Diamonds – Blackman (from album Deeper Roots (Back to the Channel), 1979)
-Mighty Diamonds – Cat O Nine (orig. 1976?)
-Culture – Black Star Liner Must Come (from album Two Sevens Clash, 1976)
-Culture – Too Long In Slavery (from album International Herb, 1979)
-Burning Spear – Slavery Days (from album Marcus Garvey, 1975)
-Burning Spear – African Postman (from album Hail H.I.M., 1980)
-Burning Spear – African Teacher (from album Hail H.I.M., 1980)
-Dennis Brown – Jah Can Do It (from album Visions Of Dennis Brown, 1978)
-Abyssinians – Declaration Of Rights (from album Satta Massagana, 1976)
-Abyssinians – African Race (from album Satta Massagana, 1976)
-Tetrack – Only Jah Jah Know (from album Let’s Get Started, 1978)
-Gregory Isaacs – Slave Market (from album Soon Forward, 1979)
-Gregory Isaacs – Slave Master (orig. 1977)
-Eek-A-Mouse – Do You Remember (from album Skidip, 1982)
-Chezidek – Who Start (from album I Grade, 2009)
maandag 3 oktober 2011
Connecting Jamaican music : a tribute to Leonard Dillon, "the Ethiopian"
In one of my previous blog posts (Best reggae albums lists) I mentioned the Ethiopians as a crucial band in reggae. Actually, this Jamaican band under the name ‘Ethiopians’ was active already since 1966 in genres preceding reggae, in the ska era, and in the rocksteady era, continuing in the reggae (early reggae and roots reggae) period. Leonard Dillon, essential and founding member of the Ethiopians died Wednesday the 28th of September 2011 at the age of 68.
He was truly a reggae pioneer. On reflection, I think that one of the things that made Leonard Dillon, also known as “Sparrow”, such a pioneering, interesting Jamaican artist was the way he “connected” different genres. He went with the Jamaican music flows, as other artists (not every one invents new music genres) but he did it in his own way, showing a strong, original personality: typical for a true artist.
Of course, the Ethiopians were a band, and the other founding members Stephen Taylor and Aston Morris contributed as well to the Ethiopians songs and sound. Aston Morris left at a certain point. Other members were temporary, and unfortunately steady member Stephen Taylor died in 1975, after being hit by a van. Dillon felt this as a blow, making him retreat for a while, while continuing to record again a time after this. Even when recording alone after this he understandably kept the name the Ethiopian(s).
Leonard Dillon was born the 9th of December 1942 in rural Portland (Northeast Jamaica) and later went to Kingston, mainly for the music. He early on met there Peter Tosh, introducing him further in the music scene.
Like I said, Dillon connected different genres. He actually made – before his ska recordings - some songs in the “mento” style, an older rural Jamaican style predating ska, under the name ‘Jack Sparrow’. In 1966 the Ethiopians started recording for Clement “Coxsone” Dodd’s Studio One. I’m admittedly more a reggae fan than a ska man but one of my favourite ska songs is the Ethiopians’ ‘Free Man’ (another ska favourite of mine would be Alton Ellis’s ‘Shake It’).
I got to know this song as part of an Ethiopians album I had: ska, rocksteady, reggae, recorded by the Ethiopians at Studio One in the 1960s and 1970s. I liked my first encounter with the Ethiopians’ songs very much. Also because of the variation throughout their songs. The rocksteady riddim has a different flow than most ska. Reggae is different also. Then, in some Ethiopians’ songs (like ‘One Heart’) there were still folk-like “mento” influences (the older rural style). Some of these songs, like ‘Well Red’, still put me in a good mood.
This “connecting” went as far that an Ethiopians’ song with “ska” in the title was oddly enough not in the ska but actually in the rocksteady style. I’m talking about ‘Train to Skaville’. Ska in the title, but features as the driving bass makes it more a rocksteady than a ska song. A “mix up” in a good, funny way. Some songs also combined ska and rocksteady characteristics, beyond the title.
A later album I bought (released in 1993) strengthened my love for the Ethiopians’ music: ‘Owner Fe De Yard’, combining older and newer recordings. Here is my review of it I wrote once for the (now stopped) Reggae Reviews site. See:
http://www.reggae-reviews.com/ethiopians.htm
The lively “mento” feel was there throughout much of his songs, but Dillon and the Ethiopians could be very serious and emotional as well. ‘Free Man’ is “minor-chord” (read: bluesy) ska, but also the later reggae of ‘Incessantly’, and the beautiful ‘I’ll Never Get Burned’ were serious tunes, with conscious “sufferers’” lyrics.
RASTAFARI
‘I’ll Never Get Burned’, from the early 1970s, is truly a classic. Musically it is relatively faster “early” reggae, but lyrically it is a forebode to the Rastafarian-influenced Roots Reggae. It is sung with Dillon’s vulnerable yet beautiful falsetto vocals.
That there was a Rastafari influence on Dillon was already obvious from the band name the Ethiopians, although the origins of it was seemingly prosaic. Dillon said in an extensive interview on the reggae-vibes.com site (see: http://www.reggaevibes.com/concert/ethiopian/ethiopian.htm ), that a place where they rehearsed in Trench Town, Kingston, was named - under Rastafari influence - the Ethiopian Reorganization Centre. Hence the name, but he himself was actually also a self-declared Rastaman.
The name 'the Ethiopians' was a statement, and in 1966 not really accepted by many Jamaicans. Far from a ticket to automatic acceptance and success, quite the contrary, but therefore more authentic. Many conservative, higher-class Jamaicans saw and despised Rastafarians as a weed-smoking, disturbing cult looking to Africa, a land of origin that was deemed less than Europe and Britain. In other words, it took guts to present yourself as Rastafarian in Jamaican society and culture, especially before the 1970s. Yet Dillon and the Ethiopians did that, staying true to themselves. Then (or later, by the way), Dillon never wore dreadlocks, but he was a Rasta from inside, evident in his songs and lyrics.
From the later period, I got the Ethiopians album ‘Tuffer Than Stone’, released in 1999. It was mostly roots reggae, with Dillon giving his own lively interpretation with folksy/mento influences. It had several good songs, and I liked especially ‘Mystic Man’, and ‘Play By The Rule’, but most other tracks on this album were solid as well. Most of these were written by Dillon.
Around the same time Leonard Dillon a.k.a. “The Ethiopian”’s album ‘On the Road Again’ was released, finding Dillon delving in yet another genre (or subgenre) in Jamaican music: dancehall. Three of the 10 songs were more or less in the dancehall style, the other tracks were more rootsy or even lovers rock, such as the nice song ‘Feed The Fire’, where Dillon employs his fine falsetto voice for a memorable (maybe even classic), sincere love song.
Listening to the Ethiopians’ and Leonard Dillon’s songs, early and later in his career, is truly like a lesson in Jamaican music. He started with mento songs, followed by ska, rocksteady, early reggae, roots reggae, and dancehall. Not always with strict boundaries between these genres, and connected further through his distinctive vocals, as well as a recurring lively, folksy (or “mento”) feel.
I was lucky to have seen Leonard Dillon perform live once, when he performed – February, 2004 – in Utrecht (in the Netherlands). I lived in Amsterdam, and it was actually not so easy to go there, but it was more than worth it. He performed together with another reggae veteran, Max Romeo, in Tivoli. Tivoli was (and is) comparable as a venue to Amsterdam’s Melkweg or Paradiso concert halls, only it was smaller. Yet it was cozy, and the “vibes” were good. Furthermore, the concerts were musically very good, and I “rocked my body line”. Leonard Dillon exhibited the same pleasant, lively feel “in person” as in many of his songs. It was a wintery day and the streets were full of snow. Nonetheless, I remembered I felt happy, and afterward almost “danced” (in my mind, and maybe even physically) my way home, back to Amsterdam, that night after the concert. Dillon’s music made me feel good, reminding me – like other great artists – why I’m a reggae fan. He reminded me of this actually for years with his songs and albums, that I have (and still play) for over 15 years now..
For that reason I think that this tribute to Leonard Dillon, “the Ethiopian”, a pioneering and “connecting” Jamaican artist, seems appropriate on my blog...
He was truly a reggae pioneer. On reflection, I think that one of the things that made Leonard Dillon, also known as “Sparrow”, such a pioneering, interesting Jamaican artist was the way he “connected” different genres. He went with the Jamaican music flows, as other artists (not every one invents new music genres) but he did it in his own way, showing a strong, original personality: typical for a true artist.
Of course, the Ethiopians were a band, and the other founding members Stephen Taylor and Aston Morris contributed as well to the Ethiopians songs and sound. Aston Morris left at a certain point. Other members were temporary, and unfortunately steady member Stephen Taylor died in 1975, after being hit by a van. Dillon felt this as a blow, making him retreat for a while, while continuing to record again a time after this. Even when recording alone after this he understandably kept the name the Ethiopian(s).
Leonard Dillon was born the 9th of December 1942 in rural Portland (Northeast Jamaica) and later went to Kingston, mainly for the music. He early on met there Peter Tosh, introducing him further in the music scene.
Like I said, Dillon connected different genres. He actually made – before his ska recordings - some songs in the “mento” style, an older rural Jamaican style predating ska, under the name ‘Jack Sparrow’. In 1966 the Ethiopians started recording for Clement “Coxsone” Dodd’s Studio One. I’m admittedly more a reggae fan than a ska man but one of my favourite ska songs is the Ethiopians’ ‘Free Man’ (another ska favourite of mine would be Alton Ellis’s ‘Shake It’).
I got to know this song as part of an Ethiopians album I had: ska, rocksteady, reggae, recorded by the Ethiopians at Studio One in the 1960s and 1970s. I liked my first encounter with the Ethiopians’ songs very much. Also because of the variation throughout their songs. The rocksteady riddim has a different flow than most ska. Reggae is different also. Then, in some Ethiopians’ songs (like ‘One Heart’) there were still folk-like “mento” influences (the older rural style). Some of these songs, like ‘Well Red’, still put me in a good mood.
This “connecting” went as far that an Ethiopians’ song with “ska” in the title was oddly enough not in the ska but actually in the rocksteady style. I’m talking about ‘Train to Skaville’. Ska in the title, but features as the driving bass makes it more a rocksteady than a ska song. A “mix up” in a good, funny way. Some songs also combined ska and rocksteady characteristics, beyond the title.
A later album I bought (released in 1993) strengthened my love for the Ethiopians’ music: ‘Owner Fe De Yard’, combining older and newer recordings. Here is my review of it I wrote once for the (now stopped) Reggae Reviews site. See:
http://www.reggae-reviews.com/ethiopians.htm
The lively “mento” feel was there throughout much of his songs, but Dillon and the Ethiopians could be very serious and emotional as well. ‘Free Man’ is “minor-chord” (read: bluesy) ska, but also the later reggae of ‘Incessantly’, and the beautiful ‘I’ll Never Get Burned’ were serious tunes, with conscious “sufferers’” lyrics.
RASTAFARI
‘I’ll Never Get Burned’, from the early 1970s, is truly a classic. Musically it is relatively faster “early” reggae, but lyrically it is a forebode to the Rastafarian-influenced Roots Reggae. It is sung with Dillon’s vulnerable yet beautiful falsetto vocals.
That there was a Rastafari influence on Dillon was already obvious from the band name the Ethiopians, although the origins of it was seemingly prosaic. Dillon said in an extensive interview on the reggae-vibes.com site (see: http://www.reggaevibes.com/concert/ethiopian/ethiopian.htm ), that a place where they rehearsed in Trench Town, Kingston, was named - under Rastafari influence - the Ethiopian Reorganization Centre. Hence the name, but he himself was actually also a self-declared Rastaman.
The name 'the Ethiopians' was a statement, and in 1966 not really accepted by many Jamaicans. Far from a ticket to automatic acceptance and success, quite the contrary, but therefore more authentic. Many conservative, higher-class Jamaicans saw and despised Rastafarians as a weed-smoking, disturbing cult looking to Africa, a land of origin that was deemed less than Europe and Britain. In other words, it took guts to present yourself as Rastafarian in Jamaican society and culture, especially before the 1970s. Yet Dillon and the Ethiopians did that, staying true to themselves. Then (or later, by the way), Dillon never wore dreadlocks, but he was a Rasta from inside, evident in his songs and lyrics.
From the later period, I got the Ethiopians album ‘Tuffer Than Stone’, released in 1999. It was mostly roots reggae, with Dillon giving his own lively interpretation with folksy/mento influences. It had several good songs, and I liked especially ‘Mystic Man’, and ‘Play By The Rule’, but most other tracks on this album were solid as well. Most of these were written by Dillon.
Around the same time Leonard Dillon a.k.a. “The Ethiopian”’s album ‘On the Road Again’ was released, finding Dillon delving in yet another genre (or subgenre) in Jamaican music: dancehall. Three of the 10 songs were more or less in the dancehall style, the other tracks were more rootsy or even lovers rock, such as the nice song ‘Feed The Fire’, where Dillon employs his fine falsetto voice for a memorable (maybe even classic), sincere love song.
Listening to the Ethiopians’ and Leonard Dillon’s songs, early and later in his career, is truly like a lesson in Jamaican music. He started with mento songs, followed by ska, rocksteady, early reggae, roots reggae, and dancehall. Not always with strict boundaries between these genres, and connected further through his distinctive vocals, as well as a recurring lively, folksy (or “mento”) feel.
I was lucky to have seen Leonard Dillon perform live once, when he performed – February, 2004 – in Utrecht (in the Netherlands). I lived in Amsterdam, and it was actually not so easy to go there, but it was more than worth it. He performed together with another reggae veteran, Max Romeo, in Tivoli. Tivoli was (and is) comparable as a venue to Amsterdam’s Melkweg or Paradiso concert halls, only it was smaller. Yet it was cozy, and the “vibes” were good. Furthermore, the concerts were musically very good, and I “rocked my body line”. Leonard Dillon exhibited the same pleasant, lively feel “in person” as in many of his songs. It was a wintery day and the streets were full of snow. Nonetheless, I remembered I felt happy, and afterward almost “danced” (in my mind, and maybe even physically) my way home, back to Amsterdam, that night after the concert. Dillon’s music made me feel good, reminding me – like other great artists – why I’m a reggae fan. He reminded me of this actually for years with his songs and albums, that I have (and still play) for over 15 years now..
For that reason I think that this tribute to Leonard Dillon, “the Ethiopian”, a pioneering and “connecting” Jamaican artist, seems appropriate on my blog...
zondag 4 september 2011
Anil Badal
‘Badal’ is een roman door Anil Ramdas, de Hindoestaans-Surinaamse schrijver, programmamaker, journalist en, wel, intellectueel.
Ik vernam in het verleden her en der van Anil Ramdas, zijn manier van spreken en schrijven, en daardoor zijn interesses en meningen. Hij presenteerde samen met Stephan Sanders het boeiende tv-programma Het Blauwe Licht, dat de VPRO zo’n 12 jaar geleden uitzond, over de diepere betekenis van tv-beelden. Ramdas’ open blik en neiging tot diepgang kwamen mij sympathiek voor. Mogelijk omdat het gepaard leek te gaan met een luchtige relativering. Ook zijn beeldende verhalen over en vanuit India in kranten en weekbladen, en over Suriname, las ik doorgaans met plezier. Verder vernam ik van zijn meningen over maatschappelijke thema’s in discussieprogramma’s of stukken. Zoals over de multiculturele samenleving, het culturele leven, en de politiek. Ik kende hem eigenlijk vooral als presentator, of enigszins afstandelijke commentator, zonder overal al te direct zijn mening openlijk te uiten. Daarin verschilt hij wellicht van zijn vriend, schrijver en columnist Stephan Sanders, wier hoogstpersoonlijke, intieme en toch doordachte meningen minder verhuld tot het publiek komen.
Aan de andere kant maakt dat meer persoonlijker werk, zoals romans, biografische uitwijdingen, of bepaalde essays, juist van Anil Ramdas, des te interessanter. Jezelf mysterieus genoeg houden om duurzaam interessant te blijven is op zich een prestatie. Wel een prestatie die meer bewondering dan warme gevoelens oproept, maar Ramdas toont zichzelf redelijk open, waardoor hij wel warm over komt. Het heeft het effect dat je het gevoel krijgt dat hij iets verhult van zichzelf, maar niet iets onprettigs. Uit verlegenheid, ongemak, eerder dan hypocrisie en/of kwader trouw.
In de roman ‘Badal’ wordt weinig verhuld, maar het is ook formeel fictief. Aan de andere kant is het overduidelijk autobiografisch. De hoofdpersoon Badal is een Hindoestaanse Surinamer in Nederland, werkend als journalist, correspondent, maatschappelijk commentator, schrijver, en televisiemaker. Dat zijn wel heel veel overeenkomsten met Anil zelf. Hij was correspondent in India in het boek, net als Ramdas in het echt was. Badal is gewoon Anil, zou je geneigd zijn te denken. Badal’s vriendenkring in het boek omvat ene Henry, die wel heel erg aan Stephan Sanders doet denken, met diens diepgaande, individualistische analyses, en diens homoseksualiteit. Veel overeenkomsten met de schrijver zelf dus.
Het is duidelijk een meningen-/ideeënroman. Anil’s, eh sorry.. Badal’s meningen en visie op de Nederlandse maatschappij en diens ontwikkeling zou je elitair kunnen noemen. Zo heeft Badal het over "white trash", blanke, volgens hem onderontwikkelde mensen, als teken van gebrekkige maatschappelijke beschaving. Cultuurbarbaren in zijn beleving: anti-intellectuelen die streven naar oppervlakkig vermaak, diepgang vermijden, en die hun rancune en haat makkelijk botvieren of in ieder geval niet relativeren. Wat dat laatste betreft doelt hij met name op het stemmen op populistische partijen als van Geert Wilders. Badal wil in de roman een analytisch/filosofisch stuk schrijven over white trash mensen, en gaat daarom in Zandvoort wonen, waar relatief veel vertegenwoordigers van die groep zouden wonen. Dat is één lijn van de roman. Er is weinig echt contact met white trash mensen overigens: het gaat vooral om de denkwereld van Badal en relaties en gesprekken met zijn vrienden, vriendinnen en familie. Vaak, maar niet altijd, ook Hindoestanen, en verder wat elitaire vrienden.
Dan is er de andere verhaallijn: Badal’s problematische huwelijk en band met kinderen, welke voornamelijk een afstandelijke band is. Dit hangt samen met een derde, significante lijn: Badal drinkt nogal veel en is in feite alcoholist. De hele roman door worden er flessen wijn, whiskey en andere drank genuttigd door Badal, met diens dronkenschap als terugkerende staat.
De verhaallijn van de drankzucht en hoe dat zijn (familie)relaties beïnvloedt wordt vaardig verteld, maar is niet erg origineel. Het thema komt vaker terug in de Nederlandse en internationale literatuur. Origineler wordt de roman door de combinatie met andere karaktertrekken en interesses van de hoofdpersoon Badal. Deze drinkt veel, en kan gerust een alcoholist genoemd worden. Maar wel een met een diepe maatschappelijke en politieke interesse, originele meningen, en in het algemeen in het bezit van een sterke persoonlijkheid. Dat laatste vond ik wel bijzonder, omdat ik om de een of andere reden alcoholist-zijn meer associeer met een zwakke persoonlijkheid.
Die maatschappelijke meningen van Badal zijn eigenlijk geen bijzaak in de roman, maar in zekere zin de hoofdmoot. Deze uiten zich onder meer in gesprekken van Badal met anderen. Daarom is dit naar mijn idee een ideeënroman. De ideeën betreffen dus die white trash populatie, maar ook de opkomst van Geert Wilders’ PVV, het klimaat van haat in Nederland dat volgens Badal daarmee samen hangt, en ook het koloniale verleden van Europa. “Beschaving” is hierbij een rode draad in Badal’s meningen. White trash zijn onbeschaafde mensen, het kolonialisme had volgens hem tenminste nog de ambitie om te “beschaven”, ondanks negatieve aspecten.
Aan de andere kant uit hij ook kritiek op het Westen en diens superioriteitswaan. Dat is wat inconsequent. Toch kan die inconsequentie ook door andere dingen komen: gespletenheid door het opgroeien in een voormalige kolonie, Suriname in dit geval. Dominante waarden zijn in (voormalige) kolonies de Europese, maar die zijn toch extern aan je eigen achtergrond, waarvan andere waarden voortleven. Cultuurcontact is dan onvermijdelijk, zelfs voor een cultuur die liever gesloten blijft (zoals relatief sterk voor de Hindoestaanse gold/geldt).
Die gespletenheid komt interessant naar voren in deze roman. Badal lijkt zich zeer thuis te voelen in de Indiase en Hindoestaanse cultuur. Hij weet veel over India, de Indiase cultuur, Hindoestaanse Surinamers, maar beperkt zich daar niet toe. Hij beschouwt ook andere bevolkingsgroepen, zoals zwarten, verschillende Nederlanders, en Britse kolonisatoren in India. Nu en in het verleden. Zijn wat elitaire visie op beschaving doet hem af en toe apologistische meningen hanteren, zoals over ook de goede dingen die het Britse kolonialisme naar India gebracht zou hebben. Zelfs voor Columbus heeft hij positieve kwalificaties, omdat hij tenminste bredere ambities voor de wereld gehad zou hebben, tegelijkertijd erkennend dat Columbus ook een racist was. Er zijn hier dus overeenkomsten met de eveneens(koloniaal) ”apologisme” verweten Indo-Trinidadiaanse schrijver V.S. Naipaul. Inderdaad min of meer vereerd door Badal in de roman.
Verder heeft hij kritiek op Wilders en diens aanhangers en stemmers. Volgens hem wachten deze mensen slechts op een aanleiding om hun haat te kunnen uiten tegen bepaalde mensen. Ook bekritiseert hij echter bepaalde “gekleurde” intellectuelen, met name diegenen onder hen zonder ironie: “quasi-intellectuelen” noemt hij deze. Echte intellectuelen hebben ironie, meent hij dus. Ik kan het daar wel mee eens zijn.
Gespletenheid is er ook in Badal’s gedrag. Hij zondert zich de ene keer graag af, de andere keer is hij weer een aanhankelijk sociaal dier. Dan praat hij met mede-intellectuelen en goede vrienden, dan weer met “gewone” mensen, zoals in de kroeg.
Het is denk ik het thema van gespletenheid dat de verschillende lijnen in het verhaal verbindt, inclusief het alcoholisme. De overgangen tussen nuchter en dronken zijn van Badal vormen op zichzelf ook een gespletenheid, die de diepere gespletenheid weerspiegelt.
De roman is meer innerlijk dan zinnelijk. Er zijn weinig zintuiglijke beschrijvingen – ook niet echt van de terugkerende staat van dronkenschap - maar juist veel verhalen, analyses, en afstandelijkere, innerlijke gedachten die betekenis geven. Dat is op zich geen bezwaar. Wel toont dat, denk ik, nog meer die gespletenheid. Iemand die enigszins met zichzelf in de knoop zit is meer met zijn innerlijk bezig en kan minder genieten van het zintuiglijke. Eenvoudig genieten van eten, sex, een film, een kunstwerk, wat dan ook, wordt moeilijker. Het geduld en de leegte ontbreken daarvoor te veel. De white trash daarentegen kunnen zelfs van Frans Bauer’s muziek ongecompliceerd genieten, en van simpele films, of wat de commerciële zenders ook op tv uitzenden. Van groffe sex of junk food eveneens.
Badal in de roman geniet echter ook, maar dan van andere muziek (met verhalen erachter en/of complexer), intellectuele gesprekken, van veelzijdige verhalen, sociale geschiedenis, wat chaotisch en improviserend reizen, schrijvers en schrijven, maar ook van dronkenschap. Er zijn simpele en ingewikkelde genoegens.
Ik vond ‘Badal’ een lezenswaardige roman, boeiend en goed geschreven, en daarnaast met een interessante en originele combinatie van zowel maatschappelijke als menselijke diepgang. Vooral die combinatie – resulterend in een ideeënroman - vind ik goed. Zoals Confucius immers ooit zei (vrij vertaald): grote mensen (lees: geesten) praten over ideeën, middelmatige mensen over gebeurtenissen, en kleine mensen over andere mensen.
Dat wil niet zeggen dat ik het met alle meningen en ideeën van Badal eens was. Badal ging met zijn meningen soms voorbij aan de basale ontwrichting door kolonialisme – hoezeer ook gepresenteerd als beschavingsprojecten. Ook de (elitaire) suggestie - vooral impliciet – in de roman dat mensen die veel intellectuele boeken lezen, zogenaamde “hogere” kunst waarderen, en hoger opgeleid zijn als vanzelf betere, menslievende mensen zullen zijn, lijkt mij al te hoopvol. Om niet te zeggen onrealistisch. Daarnaast verschilde ik ook van mening met Badal over kleinere zaken.
Hoe dan ook zijn het voor een groot deel, vind ik, die maatschappelijke beschouwingen en analyses in ‘Badal’ die de roman tegelijkertijd bijzonder en boeiend maken, samen met de boeiend weergegeven menselijke gespletenheid. Een aanrader.
Boekgegevens:
Badal: roman: Anil Ramdas. - 411 p. - Amsterdam : De Bezige Bij, 2011. ISBN: 9789023459040
Ik vernam in het verleden her en der van Anil Ramdas, zijn manier van spreken en schrijven, en daardoor zijn interesses en meningen. Hij presenteerde samen met Stephan Sanders het boeiende tv-programma Het Blauwe Licht, dat de VPRO zo’n 12 jaar geleden uitzond, over de diepere betekenis van tv-beelden. Ramdas’ open blik en neiging tot diepgang kwamen mij sympathiek voor. Mogelijk omdat het gepaard leek te gaan met een luchtige relativering. Ook zijn beeldende verhalen over en vanuit India in kranten en weekbladen, en over Suriname, las ik doorgaans met plezier. Verder vernam ik van zijn meningen over maatschappelijke thema’s in discussieprogramma’s of stukken. Zoals over de multiculturele samenleving, het culturele leven, en de politiek. Ik kende hem eigenlijk vooral als presentator, of enigszins afstandelijke commentator, zonder overal al te direct zijn mening openlijk te uiten. Daarin verschilt hij wellicht van zijn vriend, schrijver en columnist Stephan Sanders, wier hoogstpersoonlijke, intieme en toch doordachte meningen minder verhuld tot het publiek komen.
Aan de andere kant maakt dat meer persoonlijker werk, zoals romans, biografische uitwijdingen, of bepaalde essays, juist van Anil Ramdas, des te interessanter. Jezelf mysterieus genoeg houden om duurzaam interessant te blijven is op zich een prestatie. Wel een prestatie die meer bewondering dan warme gevoelens oproept, maar Ramdas toont zichzelf redelijk open, waardoor hij wel warm over komt. Het heeft het effect dat je het gevoel krijgt dat hij iets verhult van zichzelf, maar niet iets onprettigs. Uit verlegenheid, ongemak, eerder dan hypocrisie en/of kwader trouw.
In de roman ‘Badal’ wordt weinig verhuld, maar het is ook formeel fictief. Aan de andere kant is het overduidelijk autobiografisch. De hoofdpersoon Badal is een Hindoestaanse Surinamer in Nederland, werkend als journalist, correspondent, maatschappelijk commentator, schrijver, en televisiemaker. Dat zijn wel heel veel overeenkomsten met Anil zelf. Hij was correspondent in India in het boek, net als Ramdas in het echt was. Badal is gewoon Anil, zou je geneigd zijn te denken. Badal’s vriendenkring in het boek omvat ene Henry, die wel heel erg aan Stephan Sanders doet denken, met diens diepgaande, individualistische analyses, en diens homoseksualiteit. Veel overeenkomsten met de schrijver zelf dus.
Het is duidelijk een meningen-/ideeënroman. Anil’s, eh sorry.. Badal’s meningen en visie op de Nederlandse maatschappij en diens ontwikkeling zou je elitair kunnen noemen. Zo heeft Badal het over "white trash", blanke, volgens hem onderontwikkelde mensen, als teken van gebrekkige maatschappelijke beschaving. Cultuurbarbaren in zijn beleving: anti-intellectuelen die streven naar oppervlakkig vermaak, diepgang vermijden, en die hun rancune en haat makkelijk botvieren of in ieder geval niet relativeren. Wat dat laatste betreft doelt hij met name op het stemmen op populistische partijen als van Geert Wilders. Badal wil in de roman een analytisch/filosofisch stuk schrijven over white trash mensen, en gaat daarom in Zandvoort wonen, waar relatief veel vertegenwoordigers van die groep zouden wonen. Dat is één lijn van de roman. Er is weinig echt contact met white trash mensen overigens: het gaat vooral om de denkwereld van Badal en relaties en gesprekken met zijn vrienden, vriendinnen en familie. Vaak, maar niet altijd, ook Hindoestanen, en verder wat elitaire vrienden.
Dan is er de andere verhaallijn: Badal’s problematische huwelijk en band met kinderen, welke voornamelijk een afstandelijke band is. Dit hangt samen met een derde, significante lijn: Badal drinkt nogal veel en is in feite alcoholist. De hele roman door worden er flessen wijn, whiskey en andere drank genuttigd door Badal, met diens dronkenschap als terugkerende staat.
De verhaallijn van de drankzucht en hoe dat zijn (familie)relaties beïnvloedt wordt vaardig verteld, maar is niet erg origineel. Het thema komt vaker terug in de Nederlandse en internationale literatuur. Origineler wordt de roman door de combinatie met andere karaktertrekken en interesses van de hoofdpersoon Badal. Deze drinkt veel, en kan gerust een alcoholist genoemd worden. Maar wel een met een diepe maatschappelijke en politieke interesse, originele meningen, en in het algemeen in het bezit van een sterke persoonlijkheid. Dat laatste vond ik wel bijzonder, omdat ik om de een of andere reden alcoholist-zijn meer associeer met een zwakke persoonlijkheid.
Die maatschappelijke meningen van Badal zijn eigenlijk geen bijzaak in de roman, maar in zekere zin de hoofdmoot. Deze uiten zich onder meer in gesprekken van Badal met anderen. Daarom is dit naar mijn idee een ideeënroman. De ideeën betreffen dus die white trash populatie, maar ook de opkomst van Geert Wilders’ PVV, het klimaat van haat in Nederland dat volgens Badal daarmee samen hangt, en ook het koloniale verleden van Europa. “Beschaving” is hierbij een rode draad in Badal’s meningen. White trash zijn onbeschaafde mensen, het kolonialisme had volgens hem tenminste nog de ambitie om te “beschaven”, ondanks negatieve aspecten.
Aan de andere kant uit hij ook kritiek op het Westen en diens superioriteitswaan. Dat is wat inconsequent. Toch kan die inconsequentie ook door andere dingen komen: gespletenheid door het opgroeien in een voormalige kolonie, Suriname in dit geval. Dominante waarden zijn in (voormalige) kolonies de Europese, maar die zijn toch extern aan je eigen achtergrond, waarvan andere waarden voortleven. Cultuurcontact is dan onvermijdelijk, zelfs voor een cultuur die liever gesloten blijft (zoals relatief sterk voor de Hindoestaanse gold/geldt).
Die gespletenheid komt interessant naar voren in deze roman. Badal lijkt zich zeer thuis te voelen in de Indiase en Hindoestaanse cultuur. Hij weet veel over India, de Indiase cultuur, Hindoestaanse Surinamers, maar beperkt zich daar niet toe. Hij beschouwt ook andere bevolkingsgroepen, zoals zwarten, verschillende Nederlanders, en Britse kolonisatoren in India. Nu en in het verleden. Zijn wat elitaire visie op beschaving doet hem af en toe apologistische meningen hanteren, zoals over ook de goede dingen die het Britse kolonialisme naar India gebracht zou hebben. Zelfs voor Columbus heeft hij positieve kwalificaties, omdat hij tenminste bredere ambities voor de wereld gehad zou hebben, tegelijkertijd erkennend dat Columbus ook een racist was. Er zijn hier dus overeenkomsten met de eveneens(koloniaal) ”apologisme” verweten Indo-Trinidadiaanse schrijver V.S. Naipaul. Inderdaad min of meer vereerd door Badal in de roman.
Verder heeft hij kritiek op Wilders en diens aanhangers en stemmers. Volgens hem wachten deze mensen slechts op een aanleiding om hun haat te kunnen uiten tegen bepaalde mensen. Ook bekritiseert hij echter bepaalde “gekleurde” intellectuelen, met name diegenen onder hen zonder ironie: “quasi-intellectuelen” noemt hij deze. Echte intellectuelen hebben ironie, meent hij dus. Ik kan het daar wel mee eens zijn.
Gespletenheid is er ook in Badal’s gedrag. Hij zondert zich de ene keer graag af, de andere keer is hij weer een aanhankelijk sociaal dier. Dan praat hij met mede-intellectuelen en goede vrienden, dan weer met “gewone” mensen, zoals in de kroeg.
Het is denk ik het thema van gespletenheid dat de verschillende lijnen in het verhaal verbindt, inclusief het alcoholisme. De overgangen tussen nuchter en dronken zijn van Badal vormen op zichzelf ook een gespletenheid, die de diepere gespletenheid weerspiegelt.
De roman is meer innerlijk dan zinnelijk. Er zijn weinig zintuiglijke beschrijvingen – ook niet echt van de terugkerende staat van dronkenschap - maar juist veel verhalen, analyses, en afstandelijkere, innerlijke gedachten die betekenis geven. Dat is op zich geen bezwaar. Wel toont dat, denk ik, nog meer die gespletenheid. Iemand die enigszins met zichzelf in de knoop zit is meer met zijn innerlijk bezig en kan minder genieten van het zintuiglijke. Eenvoudig genieten van eten, sex, een film, een kunstwerk, wat dan ook, wordt moeilijker. Het geduld en de leegte ontbreken daarvoor te veel. De white trash daarentegen kunnen zelfs van Frans Bauer’s muziek ongecompliceerd genieten, en van simpele films, of wat de commerciële zenders ook op tv uitzenden. Van groffe sex of junk food eveneens.
Badal in de roman geniet echter ook, maar dan van andere muziek (met verhalen erachter en/of complexer), intellectuele gesprekken, van veelzijdige verhalen, sociale geschiedenis, wat chaotisch en improviserend reizen, schrijvers en schrijven, maar ook van dronkenschap. Er zijn simpele en ingewikkelde genoegens.
Ik vond ‘Badal’ een lezenswaardige roman, boeiend en goed geschreven, en daarnaast met een interessante en originele combinatie van zowel maatschappelijke als menselijke diepgang. Vooral die combinatie – resulterend in een ideeënroman - vind ik goed. Zoals Confucius immers ooit zei (vrij vertaald): grote mensen (lees: geesten) praten over ideeën, middelmatige mensen over gebeurtenissen, en kleine mensen over andere mensen.
Dat wil niet zeggen dat ik het met alle meningen en ideeën van Badal eens was. Badal ging met zijn meningen soms voorbij aan de basale ontwrichting door kolonialisme – hoezeer ook gepresenteerd als beschavingsprojecten. Ook de (elitaire) suggestie - vooral impliciet – in de roman dat mensen die veel intellectuele boeken lezen, zogenaamde “hogere” kunst waarderen, en hoger opgeleid zijn als vanzelf betere, menslievende mensen zullen zijn, lijkt mij al te hoopvol. Om niet te zeggen onrealistisch. Daarnaast verschilde ik ook van mening met Badal over kleinere zaken.
Hoe dan ook zijn het voor een groot deel, vind ik, die maatschappelijke beschouwingen en analyses in ‘Badal’ die de roman tegelijkertijd bijzonder en boeiend maken, samen met de boeiend weergegeven menselijke gespletenheid. Een aanrader.
Boekgegevens:
Badal: roman: Anil Ramdas. - 411 p. - Amsterdam : De Bezige Bij, 2011. ISBN: 9789023459040
zaterdag 6 augustus 2011
Word Power
I have a somewhat odd relationship with the country France. Mainly, during my life, I got to see it as the country “in-between”. Purely practical that is. Being half-Spanish and living in the Netherlands, we (I and family) often went to Spain, at first for years by car or bus, and had to go through France, of course a much bigger country than Belgium.
France therefore felt principally like (no disrespect intended) a larger hurdle to overcome. Our minds were not totally closed, and we looked around when we had to sojourn in France. As we usually crossed the border on the west-side, near Irun (Basque country), the “half-way stop” we chose mostly was in the broad south-western area of France: roughly between Poitiers and Bordeaux. I also remember us staying somewhat more to the south, in or near the French Basque country (in Spain itself we still had some way to go). I myself went a time alone to Spain by train, through France, but with the exception of a few hours in central Paris as a stopover, I spent little time in France: I went to see different parts of Spain, and France was a large country I had to pass through. Again, no disrespect for the French, but I had specific interests and connections I chose to focus on because of my background.
Regarding culture and society, France became in my mind the “other” Latin-speaking country. Culturally also between Northern Europe and Southern Europe. Different from the Spain of my maternal background, as well as from the Italy of my paternal background. French is a Latin/Romance language but not one I was very fluent in. Further, there were vague associations of a culture of food, perfume, certain art forms, and fashion I got through media about France.
Recently I chose France – for a change – as a travel destination. Again (see other posts), there is a reggae connection: I flew on Marseille and also wanted to go to Avignon. Nearby Avignon there was, in the village of Bagnols-sur-Cèze, the Garance reggae festival: one of the biggest of Europe. Interesting, big names like Burning Spear, Sly & Robbie, Clinton Fearon (former Gladiators), Midnite, Willie Williams, and others were scheduled to perform. This influenced my decision to go to that part of France. It did hardly define the whole trip, though. I went to travel and see another part of Europe I knew not too much about. Though it is and remains true that “I go where reggae is”, my travelling goals were in this case broader.
The Garance reggae festival is one of the biggest of Europe. It was held between 27 and 30 July in 2011, and roughly around that time I flew to Marseille: the biggest city of the Provence in South France, and the second-biggest in France, with more than a million inhabitants. The biggest port as well. It is historically the oldest French city, founded by Greeks.
Later I would go to inland Provence, to Avignon, nearer to the festival. Avignon itself was known for its theatre culture, and there was during most of July a theatre festival in the town of Avignon, which has about 90.000 inhabitants. I read in Dutch newspaper ‘de Volkskrant’ that this theatre festival’s origin dates back to 1947, then meant to revive post-war French art life.
LANGUAGE BARRIER
I (unfortunately) reencountered a phenomenon throughout all this that I almost forgot about for a time: the language barrier. I’m not fluent in French, had it at school until I was about 20, and learned some, but not extensively. I found out again how it is to not be able to talk freely and extensively, to having many options of speaking your mind, and expressing yourself with the locals. I spoke some French, and at times English, but it went a bit difficult, and remained necessarily too often superficial and practical.
You cannot deny the importance of language. It is related to what some Rastas call “word power”. More existentially, this means that speaking words in itself has the power to create. The Bible even seems to start with this premise: “In the beginning was the word, and the word was God”. As most Rastas find that Jah (or God) is within oneself, and is a living man, you could in some way argue that Jah “in I” is silenced, because of a language barrier. Limited as I life force. To a degree, of course. In any case, you get somewhat excluded from surrounding society and, well, people.
MARSEILLE
Marseille broadly seemed to respond to a northern Mediterranean atmosphere. It is hard to grasp the cultural tenets, though I got an idea. The French culture seems to pay much attention to “the refined”, to “form”, or “style” in the broad sense. This is evident in the French cuisine, as in other, daily customs. Courtesy is also valued high, however superficial. For instance in greeting when entering a store, “bonjour”, and the way how you say thank you. Arguably, in my experience, people in Spain seemed more “informal” in their overall demeanour and behaviour. This is not the same as being “rude”: Spanish seemed just as friendly and respectful, but in another way, maybe comparable to how you talk with your friends or team mates. In France, social customs seemed more distant and formal.
In other ways, Marseille is a modern, multicultural European city. A port-city like Bristol, which I discussed also on this blog. The specific colonial past of France comes to the fore in the type of non-European immigrants. Relatively many from Algeria and Morocco (geographically not too far of course), but also from sub-Saharan Africa, the Comoros Islands, and Vietnam (for a period a French colony as not everyone seems to know). Multicultural means in most cases not living among people of different backgrounds, but rather living quite apart from other ethnic groups, concentrated in specific quarters/neighbourhoods, dominated numerically by specific ethnicities/cultures (or religions). The same applies to other cities in Europe of course.
The area around the main train station St-Charles, not too far east of the Old Harbour and centre of Marseille, is largely inhabited by people originally from the Maghreb: Algerians and Moroccans, with Islam being an important religion.
The Old Harbour (Vieux Port) in Marseille’s centre has a different, more Mediterranean feel from the Harbour I saw in Bristol: lighter, yellow-ish, and less sombre colours than Bristol’s canals and harbours. The Old Harbour – however – is not used as a commercial, industrial port anymore. The modern, economic port is located more to the northern outskirts of Marseille.
A view on Marseille's Vieux Port (Old Harbour)
Architecture can be interesting, because it is the most obvious material sign of a culture and society. The Provence region of South France seems to be characterized by yellow-ish, pink-ish “light” colours: lighter and more southern/Mediterranean than, say, Bristol or Amsterdam. Yet, it is also different from Spanish cities. There were similarities with parts of Italy, but it was neither the same as, say, Pisa, where I have been.
I am however not so much an “architecture buff” as I am a “museum buff” (to use Lonely Planet-travel guide parlance). I like visiting different museums. I did it in Marseille and Avignon as well.
I’ve visited several interesting museums during the trip. In Marseille’s Le Panier quarter (the Montmartre of Marseilles, they say) there was an exhibition on Orientalism in French paintings: how especially French painters saw the Orient: the Middle East, North Africa.
It was very interesting. The term orientalism was of course by Edward Said, who was most probably an interesting and versatile, innovative thinker. One thing bothered me, though, from my perspective. Marcus Garvey – in time preceding Said – broadly pointed at some of the same things or principles as Said, only earlier: how the West saw the rest of the world from their cultural perspective and their (colonial) interests in mind. Garvey focused on the colonial project as it affected sub-Saharan Africa more than the Orient. Garvey receives overall nonetheless much less academic interest than Said. Unjustly, I think.
Furthermore, it is definitely not the case that the Orient was “ravaged” by European colonialism more than sub-Saharan Africa. On the contrary: let us think of the extensive slave trade alone affecting millions in black Africa, by both Europeans and Arabs.
A view on Marseille's Le Panier quarter
After a few days Marseille, I went to Avignon, about 80 kilometres north/inland, on the river Rhone.
AVIGNON
It was “theatre month”- as each July, in Avignon. This means that there are many performances in the several theatres in the town – which has normally about 90.000 inhabitants -, and many artists and performers on the street, most promoting their plays/pieces to be seen in the theatres.
Central Avignon, late July 2011
I found it fun and interesting to see so many street performances. These ranged from musically to visually artistic, the juggling, the acrobatic, the literary, and everything in between. Dancers, capoeira, street dance, a guy dancing with a silver, seemingly floating ball by his hand. Music from Amerindians, to African music - such as from the Senegambia region - , to traditional or classical French, pianists, Flamenco-like Spanish guitar players... Some of it sounded really good.
GARANCE
Then there was the other festival: the Garance reggae festival. Partly unconsciously I wanted to compare it with the other festival I went to in 2010 in Spain: the Rototom reggae festival in Eastern Spain, Benicassim, held in August, discussed also on my (this) blog. In both cases I heard the same: this is the biggest reggae festival of Europe. Of neither festival I went every single day, but having been there substantial parts of the festivals and knowing the programmes, I am quite sure that I can say this: Rototom in Spain (formerly Italy), is bigger than Garance in France. Rototom lasts more days (namely 6) and has more artists and concerts. Concerts that are even relatively long for festivals. Garance, in comparison, lasted 4 days, and the premises/terrain also opened later than in Benicassim/Rototom. There were at both festivals quite some reggae concerts of different artists, of course, which is more important than who is biggest. There were however also organizational differences.
The festival terrain
Another flaw, maybe, of the Garance festival is its somewhat isolated location. It is held in the town Bagnols-sur-Cèze, about 40 kilometers from Avignon. It does not have an own train station (Avignon being one of the nearest), and public transportation is too limited: like Rototom concerts tended to end close to 3 o’clock in the morning, but you cannot get out of Bagnols at that time (save by expensive taxi). That would not be a problem if the accommodation in Bagnols was extensive, but there was few when compared to Benicassim, laying on the much-visited Spanish Valencian coast. Besides this, the Garance festival had no debates or forums: it could have been more intellectual (with more word power?).
Nonetheless - I’m done complaining now - I eventually could go 2 out of the 4 days, and saw concerts of Burning Spear, a Studio One revue (Lone Ranger, Prince Jazzbo, Willie Williams, King Stitt and others). “Oldest living deejay” King Stitt was introduced as no less than “the first rapper in history” (Well, I think...no, that’s maybe a topic for another post). Unfortunately, these latter did not perform with a live band, but with a deejay playing Studio One riddims. The sound was good (though not perfect: I think e.g. the sound of the snare drum – not unimportant in reggae – could be better), and it was still fun to see these deejay-ing veterans.
King Stitt on stage
Burning Spear had a characteristically good show, good band (he tends to take his own band for concerts), and good sound. Winston Rodney is still very active and seems motivated. High points for me included some songs, including the song ‘Marcus Garvey’. I think this song’s “crucial” horns and strong riddim did it, along with its meaning/lyrics. About the Jamaican black leader who receives less attention than Edward Said.
The second day I went to Clinton Fearon (formerly of the Gladiators), rocksteady veteran Ken Boothe, British-based fusion/reggae artist Natty, Jimmy Cliff (I saw only part of it), Sly and Robbie and Junior Reid, and Midnite. Clinton Fearon had a great concert, Ken Boothe was nice, Natty had its moments (not all though), Sly & Robbie was mostly great, and somewhat shortly Junior Reid appeared on stage, which was a good, but later chaotic performance. I saw a large part of the late concert of Midnite (beginning after 1 o’clock at night).
Clinton Fearon on stage
Clinton Fearon and the first part of Sly & Robbie was of these concerts the most impressive to me. Midnite - from the US Virgin Islands - was nice, but they have a distinct, sobre style, which combines the experimental with the laid-back. An acquired taste, perhaps. This no-frills and “reasoning” sound is very much their own and in that sense unique. Yet, after about a half an hour it got somewhat monotonous. Plus it was late, by then.
Screen with main stage concert of Midnite
Furthermore, there were different stands, such as a good place for Ital - Rastafari, natural/vegetarian - food - where I had a great Ital meal with sweet potatoes, and a deejay, with mostly nice tunes and a good sound (Jamaican sound system-style: think high, piled up loud speakers, heavy bass).
Back in Avignon, I visited some museums (again), such as the extensive Curet museum of fine arts with also an interesting Egyptian exhibition along with paintings, and the former Papal palace (for a period Avignon apparently was a “second” Rome). Varied and cultural.
SYMBOLS AND/OR SIGNS?
For the last 3 nights I went back to Marseille, where I had to catch the plane. I visited more museums, such as on the Marseillaise (yes, the song: anthem of the French revolution, and now French national anthem, some maybe can mum it). It was in French, but I got the main content more or less. Interesting were the different versions – and uses - of the song. The next day I went to the Museum of Contemporary Art. The latter was outside the centre and quite a walk (I knew buses went, but I walked), passing the modern Olimpique de Marseille football/soccer club stadium, the Velodrome.
I could have taken the bus and partly the subway/metro to the Museum of Contemporary Art, but I saw on the map exactly how to walk. I find that pleasing somehow: to find my own way. I had to walk the Rue Paradis out to the end (by itself a few kilometres), from the Charles de Gaulle square in the centre where I had breakfast (actually it was 12:30 hours, but hey..). I walked the Rue Paradis out. Near the end of it I wanted to sit down and sought in a side street a place to rest. In a residential street I sat down, I was somewhat surprised (though not too much), to find a drawing of Martin Luther King’s face on a wall.
After resting I walked on on the Rue Paradis. Martin Luther King, “Paradise” street: symbolic it seems. I still had a few kilometres to go. After the Rue Paradis it was not long until I saw the stadium, which appeared somewhat more modern to me than another one I saw recently (of Spanish football/soccer club F.C. Sevilla). Both Olimpique Marseille and Sevilla can be qualified as “big” clubs, playing often in European leagues. For a long time now France fares economically better than Spain, but that is not saying much: Real Madrid and Barcelona are the richest football clubs of Europe. That’s another issue, though.
The Velodrome stadium
After the stadium I went to a quieter, greener part of Marseille, and after a few kilometres I found the Museum of Contemporary Art. It was very interesting and, some may find, comical. Like Andy Warhol and others many contemporary artists use modern-day objects (e.g. cardboard, tubes, car parts) and repackage them, or use other symbols, turning out seemingly “absurd”. Such as the art-work of a big stone “sleeping” in a (broke-down) bed. Contemporary art includes also photography. There were interesting photographs - such as of Dutch-Somali politician/activist Ayaan Hirsi Ali - alongside installations and paintings. Further, there was also a portrait in light (as installation) of Malcolm X from the 1960s.
Malcolm X in Marseille's Contempory Arts museum
Marcus Garvey, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, (Paradise Street, maybe the Egypt exhibition), more symbolic clues! Added to this can be the interesting work ‘King of the Zulus’ by Jean-Michel Basquiat, the Contemporary Art museum held.
More symbols along with this: the evening before I had a tasty dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant, Axum, which was decorated with Ethiopian symbols. The Ethiopian lady who attended me (of the owning family) commented in French on my “Ethiopian” necklace, which included Haile Selassie I and Ethiopian flag colours. I saw this restaurant by chance - believe it or not - (I was looking for another restaurant that was closed). Add this as a symbolic, Rastafari connection to the ones I already mentioned. Mind you, most of these symbols I encountered by chance: I did not expect to see the Martin Luther King drawing in that street. I did not know what to expect in the Contemporary Art museum. I did not plan to go to the Ethiopian restaurant. Maybe I should have. Beyond symbols, were they signs?
View of Rue Paradis
How much did I walk to the Contemporary Art museum, about 5 kilometres? Still, I walked this distance back - past the stadium, Rue Paradis etc. - and did not take the bus. Back at my hotel I was a bit tired, but it was overall worth it, not just because of the symbols and/or signs, but they were part of it.
I strive mostly for rationality, and I think that symbols or signs are not always to be trusted, but here I appreciated the symbolic clues and signs. In the end, as language connects and gives meaning to (also visual) symbols, this can also be seen as a form of “word power”. A power which overcomes any language barrier.
Yet in practice, a language barrier remains annoying though, even alienating. Yet, signs and symbols guided me somehow.
France therefore felt principally like (no disrespect intended) a larger hurdle to overcome. Our minds were not totally closed, and we looked around when we had to sojourn in France. As we usually crossed the border on the west-side, near Irun (Basque country), the “half-way stop” we chose mostly was in the broad south-western area of France: roughly between Poitiers and Bordeaux. I also remember us staying somewhat more to the south, in or near the French Basque country (in Spain itself we still had some way to go). I myself went a time alone to Spain by train, through France, but with the exception of a few hours in central Paris as a stopover, I spent little time in France: I went to see different parts of Spain, and France was a large country I had to pass through. Again, no disrespect for the French, but I had specific interests and connections I chose to focus on because of my background.
Regarding culture and society, France became in my mind the “other” Latin-speaking country. Culturally also between Northern Europe and Southern Europe. Different from the Spain of my maternal background, as well as from the Italy of my paternal background. French is a Latin/Romance language but not one I was very fluent in. Further, there were vague associations of a culture of food, perfume, certain art forms, and fashion I got through media about France.
Recently I chose France – for a change – as a travel destination. Again (see other posts), there is a reggae connection: I flew on Marseille and also wanted to go to Avignon. Nearby Avignon there was, in the village of Bagnols-sur-Cèze, the Garance reggae festival: one of the biggest of Europe. Interesting, big names like Burning Spear, Sly & Robbie, Clinton Fearon (former Gladiators), Midnite, Willie Williams, and others were scheduled to perform. This influenced my decision to go to that part of France. It did hardly define the whole trip, though. I went to travel and see another part of Europe I knew not too much about. Though it is and remains true that “I go where reggae is”, my travelling goals were in this case broader.
The Garance reggae festival is one of the biggest of Europe. It was held between 27 and 30 July in 2011, and roughly around that time I flew to Marseille: the biggest city of the Provence in South France, and the second-biggest in France, with more than a million inhabitants. The biggest port as well. It is historically the oldest French city, founded by Greeks.
Later I would go to inland Provence, to Avignon, nearer to the festival. Avignon itself was known for its theatre culture, and there was during most of July a theatre festival in the town of Avignon, which has about 90.000 inhabitants. I read in Dutch newspaper ‘de Volkskrant’ that this theatre festival’s origin dates back to 1947, then meant to revive post-war French art life.
LANGUAGE BARRIER
I (unfortunately) reencountered a phenomenon throughout all this that I almost forgot about for a time: the language barrier. I’m not fluent in French, had it at school until I was about 20, and learned some, but not extensively. I found out again how it is to not be able to talk freely and extensively, to having many options of speaking your mind, and expressing yourself with the locals. I spoke some French, and at times English, but it went a bit difficult, and remained necessarily too often superficial and practical.
You cannot deny the importance of language. It is related to what some Rastas call “word power”. More existentially, this means that speaking words in itself has the power to create. The Bible even seems to start with this premise: “In the beginning was the word, and the word was God”. As most Rastas find that Jah (or God) is within oneself, and is a living man, you could in some way argue that Jah “in I” is silenced, because of a language barrier. Limited as I life force. To a degree, of course. In any case, you get somewhat excluded from surrounding society and, well, people.
MARSEILLE
Marseille broadly seemed to respond to a northern Mediterranean atmosphere. It is hard to grasp the cultural tenets, though I got an idea. The French culture seems to pay much attention to “the refined”, to “form”, or “style” in the broad sense. This is evident in the French cuisine, as in other, daily customs. Courtesy is also valued high, however superficial. For instance in greeting when entering a store, “bonjour”, and the way how you say thank you. Arguably, in my experience, people in Spain seemed more “informal” in their overall demeanour and behaviour. This is not the same as being “rude”: Spanish seemed just as friendly and respectful, but in another way, maybe comparable to how you talk with your friends or team mates. In France, social customs seemed more distant and formal.
In other ways, Marseille is a modern, multicultural European city. A port-city like Bristol, which I discussed also on this blog. The specific colonial past of France comes to the fore in the type of non-European immigrants. Relatively many from Algeria and Morocco (geographically not too far of course), but also from sub-Saharan Africa, the Comoros Islands, and Vietnam (for a period a French colony as not everyone seems to know). Multicultural means in most cases not living among people of different backgrounds, but rather living quite apart from other ethnic groups, concentrated in specific quarters/neighbourhoods, dominated numerically by specific ethnicities/cultures (or religions). The same applies to other cities in Europe of course.
The area around the main train station St-Charles, not too far east of the Old Harbour and centre of Marseille, is largely inhabited by people originally from the Maghreb: Algerians and Moroccans, with Islam being an important religion.
The Old Harbour (Vieux Port) in Marseille’s centre has a different, more Mediterranean feel from the Harbour I saw in Bristol: lighter, yellow-ish, and less sombre colours than Bristol’s canals and harbours. The Old Harbour – however – is not used as a commercial, industrial port anymore. The modern, economic port is located more to the northern outskirts of Marseille.
A view on Marseille's Vieux Port (Old Harbour)
Architecture can be interesting, because it is the most obvious material sign of a culture and society. The Provence region of South France seems to be characterized by yellow-ish, pink-ish “light” colours: lighter and more southern/Mediterranean than, say, Bristol or Amsterdam. Yet, it is also different from Spanish cities. There were similarities with parts of Italy, but it was neither the same as, say, Pisa, where I have been.
I am however not so much an “architecture buff” as I am a “museum buff” (to use Lonely Planet-travel guide parlance). I like visiting different museums. I did it in Marseille and Avignon as well.
I’ve visited several interesting museums during the trip. In Marseille’s Le Panier quarter (the Montmartre of Marseilles, they say) there was an exhibition on Orientalism in French paintings: how especially French painters saw the Orient: the Middle East, North Africa.
It was very interesting. The term orientalism was of course by Edward Said, who was most probably an interesting and versatile, innovative thinker. One thing bothered me, though, from my perspective. Marcus Garvey – in time preceding Said – broadly pointed at some of the same things or principles as Said, only earlier: how the West saw the rest of the world from their cultural perspective and their (colonial) interests in mind. Garvey focused on the colonial project as it affected sub-Saharan Africa more than the Orient. Garvey receives overall nonetheless much less academic interest than Said. Unjustly, I think.
Furthermore, it is definitely not the case that the Orient was “ravaged” by European colonialism more than sub-Saharan Africa. On the contrary: let us think of the extensive slave trade alone affecting millions in black Africa, by both Europeans and Arabs.
A view on Marseille's Le Panier quarter
After a few days Marseille, I went to Avignon, about 80 kilometres north/inland, on the river Rhone.
AVIGNON
It was “theatre month”- as each July, in Avignon. This means that there are many performances in the several theatres in the town – which has normally about 90.000 inhabitants -, and many artists and performers on the street, most promoting their plays/pieces to be seen in the theatres.
Central Avignon, late July 2011
I found it fun and interesting to see so many street performances. These ranged from musically to visually artistic, the juggling, the acrobatic, the literary, and everything in between. Dancers, capoeira, street dance, a guy dancing with a silver, seemingly floating ball by his hand. Music from Amerindians, to African music - such as from the Senegambia region - , to traditional or classical French, pianists, Flamenco-like Spanish guitar players... Some of it sounded really good.
GARANCE
Then there was the other festival: the Garance reggae festival. Partly unconsciously I wanted to compare it with the other festival I went to in 2010 in Spain: the Rototom reggae festival in Eastern Spain, Benicassim, held in August, discussed also on my (this) blog. In both cases I heard the same: this is the biggest reggae festival of Europe. Of neither festival I went every single day, but having been there substantial parts of the festivals and knowing the programmes, I am quite sure that I can say this: Rototom in Spain (formerly Italy), is bigger than Garance in France. Rototom lasts more days (namely 6) and has more artists and concerts. Concerts that are even relatively long for festivals. Garance, in comparison, lasted 4 days, and the premises/terrain also opened later than in Benicassim/Rototom. There were at both festivals quite some reggae concerts of different artists, of course, which is more important than who is biggest. There were however also organizational differences.
The festival terrain
Another flaw, maybe, of the Garance festival is its somewhat isolated location. It is held in the town Bagnols-sur-Cèze, about 40 kilometers from Avignon. It does not have an own train station (Avignon being one of the nearest), and public transportation is too limited: like Rototom concerts tended to end close to 3 o’clock in the morning, but you cannot get out of Bagnols at that time (save by expensive taxi). That would not be a problem if the accommodation in Bagnols was extensive, but there was few when compared to Benicassim, laying on the much-visited Spanish Valencian coast. Besides this, the Garance festival had no debates or forums: it could have been more intellectual (with more word power?).
Nonetheless - I’m done complaining now - I eventually could go 2 out of the 4 days, and saw concerts of Burning Spear, a Studio One revue (Lone Ranger, Prince Jazzbo, Willie Williams, King Stitt and others). “Oldest living deejay” King Stitt was introduced as no less than “the first rapper in history” (Well, I think...no, that’s maybe a topic for another post). Unfortunately, these latter did not perform with a live band, but with a deejay playing Studio One riddims. The sound was good (though not perfect: I think e.g. the sound of the snare drum – not unimportant in reggae – could be better), and it was still fun to see these deejay-ing veterans.
King Stitt on stage
Burning Spear had a characteristically good show, good band (he tends to take his own band for concerts), and good sound. Winston Rodney is still very active and seems motivated. High points for me included some songs, including the song ‘Marcus Garvey’. I think this song’s “crucial” horns and strong riddim did it, along with its meaning/lyrics. About the Jamaican black leader who receives less attention than Edward Said.
The second day I went to Clinton Fearon (formerly of the Gladiators), rocksteady veteran Ken Boothe, British-based fusion/reggae artist Natty, Jimmy Cliff (I saw only part of it), Sly and Robbie and Junior Reid, and Midnite. Clinton Fearon had a great concert, Ken Boothe was nice, Natty had its moments (not all though), Sly & Robbie was mostly great, and somewhat shortly Junior Reid appeared on stage, which was a good, but later chaotic performance. I saw a large part of the late concert of Midnite (beginning after 1 o’clock at night).
Clinton Fearon on stage
Clinton Fearon and the first part of Sly & Robbie was of these concerts the most impressive to me. Midnite - from the US Virgin Islands - was nice, but they have a distinct, sobre style, which combines the experimental with the laid-back. An acquired taste, perhaps. This no-frills and “reasoning” sound is very much their own and in that sense unique. Yet, after about a half an hour it got somewhat monotonous. Plus it was late, by then.
Screen with main stage concert of Midnite
Furthermore, there were different stands, such as a good place for Ital - Rastafari, natural/vegetarian - food - where I had a great Ital meal with sweet potatoes, and a deejay, with mostly nice tunes and a good sound (Jamaican sound system-style: think high, piled up loud speakers, heavy bass).
Back in Avignon, I visited some museums (again), such as the extensive Curet museum of fine arts with also an interesting Egyptian exhibition along with paintings, and the former Papal palace (for a period Avignon apparently was a “second” Rome). Varied and cultural.
SYMBOLS AND/OR SIGNS?
For the last 3 nights I went back to Marseille, where I had to catch the plane. I visited more museums, such as on the Marseillaise (yes, the song: anthem of the French revolution, and now French national anthem, some maybe can mum it). It was in French, but I got the main content more or less. Interesting were the different versions – and uses - of the song. The next day I went to the Museum of Contemporary Art. The latter was outside the centre and quite a walk (I knew buses went, but I walked), passing the modern Olimpique de Marseille football/soccer club stadium, the Velodrome.
I could have taken the bus and partly the subway/metro to the Museum of Contemporary Art, but I saw on the map exactly how to walk. I find that pleasing somehow: to find my own way. I had to walk the Rue Paradis out to the end (by itself a few kilometres), from the Charles de Gaulle square in the centre where I had breakfast (actually it was 12:30 hours, but hey..). I walked the Rue Paradis out. Near the end of it I wanted to sit down and sought in a side street a place to rest. In a residential street I sat down, I was somewhat surprised (though not too much), to find a drawing of Martin Luther King’s face on a wall.
After resting I walked on on the Rue Paradis. Martin Luther King, “Paradise” street: symbolic it seems. I still had a few kilometres to go. After the Rue Paradis it was not long until I saw the stadium, which appeared somewhat more modern to me than another one I saw recently (of Spanish football/soccer club F.C. Sevilla). Both Olimpique Marseille and Sevilla can be qualified as “big” clubs, playing often in European leagues. For a long time now France fares economically better than Spain, but that is not saying much: Real Madrid and Barcelona are the richest football clubs of Europe. That’s another issue, though.
The Velodrome stadium
After the stadium I went to a quieter, greener part of Marseille, and after a few kilometres I found the Museum of Contemporary Art. It was very interesting and, some may find, comical. Like Andy Warhol and others many contemporary artists use modern-day objects (e.g. cardboard, tubes, car parts) and repackage them, or use other symbols, turning out seemingly “absurd”. Such as the art-work of a big stone “sleeping” in a (broke-down) bed. Contemporary art includes also photography. There were interesting photographs - such as of Dutch-Somali politician/activist Ayaan Hirsi Ali - alongside installations and paintings. Further, there was also a portrait in light (as installation) of Malcolm X from the 1960s.
Malcolm X in Marseille's Contempory Arts museum
Marcus Garvey, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, (Paradise Street, maybe the Egypt exhibition), more symbolic clues! Added to this can be the interesting work ‘King of the Zulus’ by Jean-Michel Basquiat, the Contemporary Art museum held.
More symbols along with this: the evening before I had a tasty dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant, Axum, which was decorated with Ethiopian symbols. The Ethiopian lady who attended me (of the owning family) commented in French on my “Ethiopian” necklace, which included Haile Selassie I and Ethiopian flag colours. I saw this restaurant by chance - believe it or not - (I was looking for another restaurant that was closed). Add this as a symbolic, Rastafari connection to the ones I already mentioned. Mind you, most of these symbols I encountered by chance: I did not expect to see the Martin Luther King drawing in that street. I did not know what to expect in the Contemporary Art museum. I did not plan to go to the Ethiopian restaurant. Maybe I should have. Beyond symbols, were they signs?
View of Rue Paradis
How much did I walk to the Contemporary Art museum, about 5 kilometres? Still, I walked this distance back - past the stadium, Rue Paradis etc. - and did not take the bus. Back at my hotel I was a bit tired, but it was overall worth it, not just because of the symbols and/or signs, but they were part of it.
I strive mostly for rationality, and I think that symbols or signs are not always to be trusted, but here I appreciated the symbolic clues and signs. In the end, as language connects and gives meaning to (also visual) symbols, this can also be seen as a form of “word power”. A power which overcomes any language barrier.
Yet in practice, a language barrier remains annoying though, even alienating. Yet, signs and symbols guided me somehow.
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