Balafon story and AI

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

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

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

BALAFON FROM SENEGAL

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

COMPOSITIONS

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

This one was solely balafon-based:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE (AI)

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

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

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

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

WIKIPEDIA FIRST

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

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

SPIDERWEB SILK

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

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

OUTSIDE OF AFRICA

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

Indonesian music I know often has traditionally some xylophones.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TOWARDS A CONCLUSION

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or was it not?

TXALAPARTA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FINAL CONCLUSION

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The flexible spread of the tambourine

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

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

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

ORIGINS

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

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

VAGUE AND CONFUSING ASPECTS

Origins and early spread

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

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

Types and characteristics

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

Frame drums or tambourines?

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

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

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

PLAYING STYLES

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

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

PANDEIRO/BRAZIL

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

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

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

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

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

CUBA

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

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

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

SPAIN

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

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

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

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

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

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

ELSEWHERE IN EUROPE

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

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

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

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

ASIA & NORTH AFRICA

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

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

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

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

NORTH AMERICA

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

US BLACK MUSIC

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

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

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

US AND BRITISH POP MUSIC

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

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

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

JAMAICA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

USE IN REGGAE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MYSELF

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CONCLUSION

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

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

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

Flamenco and I

It is in some sense part of my cultural heritage, Flamenco Music. My mother after all hails from the Southern half of Spain (not far from Córdoba), and the South Spanish region Andalusia, along with parts of surrounding regions (Extremadura, Murcia), is the place of origin of the Flamenco music, dance, and culture.

Flamenco is indeed one of the most developed and maintained folk music genres in Europe. While there is folk music everywhere, even in Europe, especially in more rural areas, few have such an extended, and internationalized tradition, safe perhaps the also quite well-known folk music from Ireland. For that reason, Flamenco is also on Unesco’s World Heritage List.

That Flamenco might be part of my cultural heritage is not that far-fetched a thought, since also what are probably distant family members (surname and place of birth, etcetera) are also active in Flamenco, such as singer Miguel De Tena, having the same surname as my grandmother.

So I encounter it due to my background, have some connection to it.. but do I like it, that whole Flamenco culture? Readers of my (this) blog could deduce that I am mainly a Reggae fan, though also a broader Black music fan. Yet here and there I also pay attention to other music genres, even world wide, including Spanish music.

The answer is yes, I like and appreciate Flamenco.

There are some nuances, though. I noted that there are quite some misconceptions, and divergent definitions and descriptions of Flamenco and its origins. It also is very broad and varied, with several varying subgenres and patterns. In that sense, Flamenco is not “one thing”, but rather a varied cultural complex centered on Andalusia, developing furthermore over time.

Contrary to what many think, Flamenco is not of Gipsy origin. The Andalusian Gipsy/Roma population soon became very active in it, as players and creators, but originally Flamenco combines several cultural influences within the Andalusia region itself, including local Spanish genres. It also is influenced by the Moorish/Islamic history of South Spain, also in some musical aspects, by Jewish presence, and other aspects, combining all this with Gipsy influences. It is thus local, and after all: if not, the Gipsy/Roma populations in Eastern Europe or elsewhere would have that Flamenco too as main expression, but do not.

MY KNOWLEDGE

Throughout my life, I have learned more and more about Flamenco: both its history and its current characteristics and variety. It started with vague information, also mistaken notions, but these got corrected, as I started to study more reliable and scholarly sources. The contradicting information and misconceptions – or deliberate false information spread – made some facts difficult to unearth.

I read the current (English-language) Wikipedia article on Flamenco, and derived from other sources, I can conclude that it is relatively correct and accurate.

Another source is the book 'World Music. – Vol. 1: Africa, Europe and the Middle East' (London : Rough Guides, 1999), a book of over 700 pages about several countries, which dedicates a separate chapter on Flamenco music, and another one on other Spanish music.

It is overall more sketchy and less scholarly than even the Wikipedia article, let alone other, actually scholarly studies I also know. Some aspects are therefore not even entirely correct, partly maybe because of ideological reasons.

The author on the chapter on Spanish Flamenco in the World Music book, Jan Fairley, separates Flamenco from Spanish folk music as such more than elsewhere, stating “the roots of flamenco have evolved in southern Spain from many sources: Morocco, Egypt, India, Pakistan, Greece, and other parts of the Near and Far East”.. One country she seems to have forgotten: Spain itself (present local Spanish folk music, already there before the Moors conquered Spain, and the Gypsies came). Furthermore I do not really know what the Pakistani or Greek contributions to Flamenco consist of, but there might be.

Not entirely adequate, and probably a (transparent, thus failed) attempt at “political correctness” against a colonizing European nation as Spain, oppressing its minorities. It is a bit more complex than that. Besides, it is a bit less convincing when someone with an English name does that, England having at least a similar colonial, racist past as Spain.

To be fair, other parts of that same chapter are a bit more interesting and correct as an overview. Fairley rightly emphasizes the importance of “improvisation” in Flamenco music and gatherings, and discusses some important aspects, artists and subgenres and mixtures.

For a more correct and easily accessible description of Flamenco’s origins I however recommend the English-language Wikipedia article.

It is hard for me to say if I necessarily like all forms or forms of Flamenco, also because I do not know enough of all forms.

GUITAR

I am more a percussion man than a guitar man - I am a percussionist after all - and also play a drum kit at times. Some Flamenco is very guitar-oriented, and therefore possibly less appealing for non-guitarists. The connection to the classical guitar (Spanish guitar) is however culturally interesting, Spain being the place of origin of the guitar in that form. That form became in time very widespread and influential in international Western pop music, with all the later developments in the guitar outside of Spain (steel strings, electric guitar, country guitar, bass guitar, etcetera). The original acoustic guitar with nylon strings is still the norm within Flamenco, and I personally like the sound of nylon strings more than steel ones.

Both my brothers play guitars: one specialized in bass, the other in Spanish and Flamenco guitars, so I personally encountered it.

Besides music, there are also Flamenco dances, for which the same applies.

I certainly like to dance to music, but as naturally and rhythmically as possible: just following the rhythm. Some of the moves in Flamenco dances I find nice, but others a bit too stylized and rigid to my taste. At times the male-female distinctions of these moves betray old-fashioned, somewhat conservative gender relations, that I as a progressive, modern man do not feel so attached too. Still, even with such more stylized moves, I at times can appreciate the elegancy and grace, especially when it flows naturally with the music.

RHYTHM

What I like most, though, of Flamenco, is that it, for European music standards, has quite an important role for “rhythm”. It is a largely (acoustic) guitar-driven nature, but many styles of playing of the acoustic guitar are quite rhythmic, maintaining specific rhythm patterns, befitting the several subgenres within Flamenco (soleá, buleria, siguiriya, tientos, tangos, regional, etcetera). The recurring hand clapping in Flamenco (and feet tapping) also relate to this. These genre distinctions are defined by differing rhythmic patterns, around which the music is built, rather than chord/harmony structures, as in other Western music. I like this rhythmic focus within Flamenco, being myself quite oriented on rhythm.

Over time, all this became even more interesting, also for me.

SINGING

The vocal part I like too. The impassioned singing can be beautiful and heartfelt, with the melismatic, North African-like singing style adding some passion and fervor to the lyrics. Some, including my “family member” Miguel De Tena, can sing like this quite well, but Flamenco has and has had several great and original singers, such as the legendary Camarón De La Isla.

Regarding lyrics, I again have a caveat, however. Used to and appreciative of the “conscious”, socially critical messages common in Reggae music – rebelling against the system and injustice -, I cannot focus too long on lyrics lacking this. Many (not all!) Flamenco lyrics are about love affairs or romantic love. Nothing wrong with a sincere love song, or nice poetic renderings of “matters of the heart”, but love, heart break, lost love, etcetera, are well-trodden paths in much popular music. It is part of life, but there is more to life than that.

Luckily, there is some socially conscious Flamenco too, and not coincidentally one of those “conscious” Flamenco singers is one of the first I got into, in that genre: Manuel Gerena. A great, intense singer, accompanied by good, improvizing guitarists, plus having socially critical lyrics, often about poverty and exploitation of workers – and other injustices - in rural Andalusia. Spain being a dictatorship up to 1975, censorship probably limited such lyrics long, and as my mother explained to me about growing up during the Franco dictatorship in Spain: employers/bosses had “free reign” to exploit and abuse lowly workers, with few – if any – labourers rights, during this Right-wing, Fascist-like dictatorship lasting in Spain until 1975 (my mother migrated/”escaped” to the Netherlands, around 1966).

Still not the best-known Flamenco artist, Manuel Gerena, but at least his social lyrics are now openly possible. I certainly “felt” his songs, anyway.

AFRO-LATIN

Flamenco developed further, and another interesting direction came with the influences from the Spanish colonies, like Cuba. These “came back” to Spain, you might say, after Spanish music was mixed with African and Amerindian music in Latin America. Some Flamenco musicians, such as Paco De Lucia, were open to these influences, also after travels, and added Afro-Peruvian and Afro-Cuban instruments, such as the cajón percussion, becoming quite common in Flamenco, and at times also congas and bongos, and smaller percussion instruments of Cuban or Latin American origin.

Besides these musical instruments, new patterns and forms developed within Flamenco, influenced by Cuban and other styles, including a subgenre in Flamenco, known as “Rumba”, being Cuban-influenced rhythmically. The style known as “Tangos” in Flamenco is on the other hand partly Argentinian-influenced.

Some Flamenco purists object to these additions and changes, but many Flamenco artists welcome it at the same time, to differing degrees.

I personally like those Afro-Cuban and Latin American additions, and find them often groovy, and combining interestingly rhythmically with the guitar sounds. One of the best-known Flamenco songs, the classic Entre Dos Aguas, certainly has that Cuban-influenced groove.

Rumba-flamenco also spread to Gypsies, outside of Andalusia, notably to the Catalonia and Perpignan (France) regions. Hence, the band known as the Gypsy Kings, based in the South of France, who had some international hits in this rumba-flamenco style (Bamboleo).

More recently, some more innovations took place by musicians active in Flamenco. Flamenco came to influence in recent decades pop genres in Spain – predictably, maybe – resulting in Flamenco Pop and Flamenco Rock, with mixed results. There are several talented artists and musicians, however, active nowadays, mixing Flamenco nicely with not just Rock, but also Funk, Blues and Reggae. I like Makandé, from Cádiz, for instance, mixing Flamenco with funk, reggae, and other genres, adding percussion. He has nice, groovy songs.

Other groups and artists, such as Radio Tarifa, work together with African and other musicians, combining with Flamenco, as a broader “World Music” approach.

The mentioned World Music book names in this regard also, justly, Ketama (mixing Flamenco with Rock and Salsa), and Pata Negra (mixing Flamenco with Blues) as noteworthy bands.

Interesting I find as well some Andalusian reggae artists, e.g. Little Pepe from Málaga, that in their singing clearly show Flamenco influences, on Reggae riddims. Often to good and original effect.

IN CONCLUSION

I can conclude therefore, also from a personal perspective, that I like the Flamenco tradition, and in that sense also that I more or less grew up with it, consisting of a nice heritage. Musically, I went in different directions, and was inspired especially by Black music, like Reggae, already as a child, increasing as teenager.

My musical interest, however, has always remained broad and open-minded, while Spanish and Italian music had my interest due to my background (Italian father, Spanish mother), with Flamenco being part of that. I listened regularly to some Flamenco artists (Camarón De La Isla, Manuel Gerena, Enrique El Extremeño, Paco de Lucia, Fosforito, Antonio Molina, and others), with both Gitano (Gypsy/Roma) and non-Gipsy backgrounds.

Later I began making music myself, and in time specialized in playing percussion. I do not exclude the possibility that some Flamenco influences appeared into my approach to percussion playing, singing, or other music making..

"Earlier" Jamaican (folk) music

Mento is known as the earliest recorded Jamaican music genre. It was according to historians (and several sources I found) already recorded in the 1920s, and would remain popular up to the 1950s. It is seen as a - rural and acoustic - precursor to the later genres originated in Jamaica since the late 1950s/early 1960s: ska, rocksteady, and reggae. Mento shared similarities with Trinidad and Tobago’s calypso genre, but is a different genre with an own history and origin. Musical similarities between mento and calypso should be attributed to a shared African-Caribbean origin, rather than one being an off-shoot of the other: similarities go back to before: the African roots, combined with some (British/European) colonial influences.

CONFUSION OF TERMS

The confusion of terms can partly be attributed to the selling of mento songs as “calypso”: for commercial, marketing reasons, especially in the 1950s. For some reason “calypso” as a Caribbean music term was more known in the US than “mento”, and in the 1950s – when mento and calypso reached more commercial success outside of Jamaica, especially in the US – many mento songs were called “calypso”. Also Harry Belafonte (US resident of Jamaican origin), who became the very first artist world wide to sell over a million copies of an album, presented what were actually Jamaican mento songs as “calypso”. Most well-known (and very well-known at that) of that album is the song ‘The Banana Boat Song (Day O)’: actually a Jamaican-originated mento song, but known better (if: wrongly) as calypso.

RECORDING

This confusion of terms aside, it is known, or at least said by serious historians, that mento was the first recorded Jamaican music genre, in the 1920s. “Recording” can have different meanings though, not so much a mistaken confusion (as in mistaking mento for calypso), but correct, varying meanings. Recording in a professional music studio, with the goal of selling music to a public - or in colder economic terms “put on the market” - was in the 1920s not that common in Jamaica, a bit more in richer countries like the US, though it was upcoming. (The first “phonograph” recording device was invented and put to use for commercial records in the US since about 1887, especially increasing by the 1910s: since then records came more massively on the US and European market).

However, “recording” music does not necessarily involve direct commercial purposes. Recordings of traditional, folk music were also made by cultural anthropologists and other social scientists, with often modest equipment: for scholarly/scientific or research purposes. These are known as "field recordings". Focussing on Jamaica this is also interesting, especially since such academic, “anthropological” field recordings have been made also from early times, since the 1930s, both by Jamaican and foreign anthropologists. These recordings were of religious, spiritual and folk music at mostly religious African-based or Afro-Christian (religious) gatherings, whereby the music tended to have spiritual/religious and community functions, and not commercial or “pop culture” functions.

JAMAICA FOLK COMPILATION ALBUM

This brings me to an interesting compilation album I recently encountered: ‘Jamaica Folk Trance Possession’ with as subtitles both ‘Roots of Rastafari, 1939-1961’ and ‘Mystic music from Jamaica’. This CD was released in 2013, and can be bought on common channels such as Amazon (see: http://www.amazon.com/Jamaica-Folk-Trance-Possession-1939-1961/dp/B00BL319YQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1375651914&sr=1-1&keywords=Jamaica+folk+trance).

It consists of such early anthropological recordings of Jamaican folk music, from – as the subtitle says – between 1939 and 1961. Before common popular music formats, radio and commercial goals (for instance the 3-minute rule/convention for pop songs that developed later), this album thus consists of excerpts of research “fieldwork” – as it is called in scholarly terms – of anthropologists recording what happened to go on at musical/spiritual meetings related to folk religions and community gatherings among Afro-Jamaicans.

These religions - or spiritual movements - were often clearly African-derived, and in turn would influence mento. The recordings include examples of Kumina (Congo-based) folk traditions, early mento, Afro-Christian Revival Zion or Baptist sessions, Pukkumina or Pocomania (African-based) music, music of the John Canoe festival, and early Rastafari gatherings and Nyabinghi music. I find interesting also that Count Ossie (influential Rastafari-adherent Nyahbinghi drummer and musician) is included in the musicians on some recordings. Further it included work songs, and traditional songs starring the famous folk poet Louise Bennett.

LINER NOTES

The liner notes - in an accompanying booklet - further say that these are the oldest Jamaican recordings that exist. That is quite a statement, and, if true, it would make this compilation album all the more historically relevant. Mento might have been recorded since the 1920s, but unfortunately these recordings seem to have been lost, since the liner notes also say that the oldest existing recording of a mento is on this album: its mento opener (a Jamaican folk classic) ‘Linstead Market’, recorded in 1939.

These liner notes – written by Bruno Blum - are a general historical and musical overview, and here and there quite informative, but I can not evaluate if they are totally correct. Largely what is said is confirmed by other sources and scholars I know, though there are a few doubtful – or better said “controversial” - aspects. The author Bruno Blum traces for example in his account the roots of Ras Tafari to the (Afro-Christian) Zion Revival churches, which shared with Rastafari an own (African/Black) interpretation of the Bible and Christianity. Yet, I understood from other sources that it is not the only root of the movement, as some pioneering Rastas indeed had connections to Revival Zion churches, whereas others, at least according to some historians, distanced themselves more from such Revival religious aspects (including Leonard Howell, as well as Rastafari inspirer Marcus Garvey).

Besides this, many Rastafari eschewed from early on practices like spirit possession or evoking the spirits of the death, albeit of direct African origins, keen as these were on separating life from death. The same reason a part of the Rastas did and do not visit funerals, not only of some distant “generals” as a few reggae songs relate, but some not even of loved ones. This is not common to all Rastas though. It is similar to the “priests” in the Jewish tradition (from the Levi priest order) who eschew contamination with the dead and death and do not dwell close to death (or e.g. cemeteries). An example of how a Biblical/Old Testament influence outweighs African traditions.

This last issue is not just a sidepath, since it is interesting in light of this that Congo (music) traditions so strongly influenced Rastafari’s Nyahbinghi traditions. Congo drumming often has the spiritual function of evoking the spirit of foreparents (i.e. the dead). This all seems contradictory, but makes sense when the symbolic and factual are properly regarded in their own worth : Rastas who do not visit funerals (of e.g. a biological brother or aunt, or even of a loved and respected elder Rastafari) don’t refuse to do so necessarily because they do not care about those deceased: they do not like death..

RECORDINGS AND SOUND QUALITY

Back to the CD. Its academic context might be – for some music listeners – something to get used to. It appeals to rationality, historical analysis, thinking, and not just to – as many prefer – just “feeling” the music. The weak and distorted sound quality - due to its relative antiquity and probably the used equipment - does not help either. The somewhat soft and distorted sound and vocals, including background murmur and noise, are far apart from the clarity, and modern, noiseless recording of popular music nowadays recorded in studios (or current Jamaican music).

Still, overcoming this I really got intrigued by these recordings. A certain rational mind-set helped me in this case – or as some say, using the “logical, rational” left brain half (I actually think you have to use both - the emotional and rational brain halves - in most of life’s activities…but that is another issue..).

Furthermore, sometimes helped by my imagination, when the sound quality is not so good, I still notice and even feel the “groove” on most songs on this album, which tend to have a strong drum- and percussion-focus (as some would expect). Simply turning up the volume also helped me to get “inna di riddim” better. Besides a drum and percussion lover, I am also a "call-and-response" singing lover, another African retention recurring throughout these songs/recordings. Also other interesting types of harmony singing can be heard. This gives in some way an interesting musical history lesson. Often I really found it engaging and danceable as well.

RASTAFARI AND NYAHBINGHI

Historically certainly interesting is also that the album liner notes claim that the album includes the oldest known Rastafari song (lyrically) ever recorded. ‘We Are Going Home’, by the Ras Tafari Youth Group (and no..it can at present not be found on YouTube). The sound quality – again – is not very clear, and the sound somewhat distorted, but you get an idea.

The liner notes also said something which I considered very informative: the relation to Congo rhythms, via Kumina, that would help shape the Nyahbinghi rhythms among the Rastafari. These first-recorded Rasta chants, however, were accompanied by music/rhythms influenced by Baptist church ceremonies, though the lyrics (and of course the Rastafari movement) criticized this colonially shaped Christianity for being racist.

Nyahbinghi (as said Congo/Kumina-based) can be found as well on this compilation - including the “heart beat” rhythm base -, played by Rastafari-adherent Count Ossie. Interestingly, Blum points in the notes at specific African origins in Ntoré rhythms from the Kivu region (Eastern Congo) – especially maintained in the eastern parish of Jamaica of St Thomas - that influenced Nyahbinghi music.

MUSICAL ROOTS

What also was educational to me was that the notes explained how at Baptist church ceremonies musically, in chanting, while keeping the beat with the feet, the off-beat was accentuated with a hand clap: the same off-beat that would later define ska (and rocksteady and reggae). It shows how far back in folk music own, distinct Jamaican rhythms go, and that the skanking “afterbeat” that would set Jamaican genres apart from e.g. US Rhythm & Blues since about 1960, indeed has a long tradition in local Jamaican folk music. Both in the Afro-Christian Baptist music, but also in the “heart beat” of Nyabinghi drumming: after the two “heart” beats an off-beat followed on the third beat: some see this as a precursor to the emphasis on the third count of a 4/4 bar in ska, rocksteady, and reggae.

Relatedly, the characteristically “shuffling strum” of the guitar (or banjo) in mento – sounding as “kerchanga”, “kerchanga” - also is considered as a precursor of the skanking guitar and organ licks in later reggae.

MENTO AGAIN

A few mento songs close off this 'Jamaica Folk Trance Possession..' compilation album of field recordings. Mento had not really that rhythmic “off-beat”/"afterbeat" focus as ska and some older folk forms had. Yet with its other musical characteristics it also influenced what would become ska, rocksteady, and reggae. Several musical artists, for instance Laurel Aitken, were active both in mento and later in ska and following genres. There is a continuity there.

Also, several Jamaican artists of the ska, rocksteady and reggae era, especially those that grew up in rural areas (where mento was more present), made initially such (much more acoustic) mento songs (like Leonard Dillon of the Ethiopians) or at least let some of their songs strongly be influenced by mento, e.g. Peter Tosh. This is also said in the recently (2013) appeared biography of Peter Tosh, written by John Masouri (‘The life of Peter Tosh : steppin’ razor’), although Masouri also makes occasionally the mistake of calling mento influences on Peter Tosh songs “calypso”.

Also, what is known within Roots Reggae as the “country style”, of groups like the Maytones, and to degrees also the Gladiators, the Itals, and Culture (all groups with partly rural connections) – and occasional songs of other groups – show influences of mento. Several folk mento songs/lyrics are redone by later reggae artists.

Mento partly influenced ska and following (sub)genres (rocksteady, reggae, up to dancehall). Other local Jamaican influences shaping these genres came from other, older musical traditions mentioned (Pukkumina, Kumina, Nyahbinghi, Revival Zion etc.), of which specific African origins can be traced, more specifically in origins (Congo for instance) than some may think.

All this makes these historical recordings valuable.

The only thing that seemed to be missing - or absent: “missing” implies that the album aimed to be comprehensive, which it did not state as such -, is music of the Maroon communities in Jamaica, the formerly escaped slaves. These Maroons' relative isolation and freedom enabled the maintenance of relatively more African cultural (and musical) traits. Apart from this, I have read that Maroon musical aspects also had an influence on Jamaican popular music development, although not in too many sources. In another field – that of food – there is a Maroon influence on wider Jamaican culture and society: the Jerk Chicken and other Jerk dishes. This despite the fact that the Maroons still partly maintain a self-chosen isolation/separation within Jamaica. But like I said: that - food - is another field. There are, in any case, some interesting videos with Jamaican Maroon music on YouTube..

Possibly there is another CD/compilation album on Jamaican Maroon music..