Clave

Many people – even in music – know only “more or less” what a “clave” actually is. Of course, some are more knowledgeable regarding this, but still: “the clave” needs perhaps some elaboration or explanation. I guess some specialized percussionists and drummers know how to define the “clave”.

In essence, clave can be defined both as a “rhythmic pattern” and as an instrument, its name derived from the Spanish for “key” (in music) or “clef”, and is as term often related to Cuban music.

The confusing thing is maybe that in present, modern-day Spanish the word for “key” is “Llave” (so starting with double L), derived from original Latin for key Clavis. The Italian and Catalan words for “key” still have this original latin “k” sound: Chiave in Italian and Clau in Catalan.

Either way, it is meant as “entry” into a musical structure, in this case rhythmically, as opposed to notes and chords for the melodic and harmonic parts.

CUBA

In several descriptions I found online, and also in “offline” scholarly works (like “books”: remember those?) the connection with Cuba recurs.

More specifically – and crucially – with Afro-Cuban culture. It is actually a “key” (pun intended) to African retentions in Afro-Cuban music. The later well-known Cuban genres Rumba and Son (feeding into even better known Salsa) have their own “claves”: both the Rumba and Son clave are known for a 3-2 (or 2-3) pattern, divided in 2 parts (measures): with two beats on one side and three on the other half.

AFRICA

Musicologists – with some good arguments, I think – relate this to a simplification of bell patterns so common in traditional West African music: also those parts where from many enslaved Africans ended up in Cuba, and elsewhere in the West: southern Nigeria (incl. Yorubaland), and Congo.

Bell patterns are varied and common throughout most of sub-Saharan Africa, though. They are also varied from culture to culture and ethnic group to ethnic group within Africa, with sometimes a much higher degree of complexity than the mentioned simplified 2-3 clave. I tried to study and play some (from Fon/Ewe culture) for instance, and it took certainly some time: I found that a nice challenge, though.

These more complicated bell patterns, of course, have a relation to the music they are supposed to lead or fit into in sub-Saharan African music: more complex polyrhythmic music, with several rhythmic patterns played at the same time, usually on different types of drums. Such bell patterns are in that sense the “key” (clave) - or “glue” - to connect all rhythmic patterns and instruments. Somehow related, that is the reason why e.g. in Yoruba culture the metal “bell” is music is metaphorically described as “the head”, as opposed to the “corporal”, the body the various drums then represent, after all made of animal skin. Bell or clave as “head”.

CARIBBEAN

Some of these original “bell pattern” complexity still survived more fully in the West, however. Notably in Haitian Vodou, or Cuban Santería. On my own instrumental song based on “Vodou” music (somewhat simplified) – fittingly named Apwoksimasyon, Haitian Creole for “approximation” - I play a more complex Yanvalou-based bell pattern. It took some time for me to learn it.. a pleasant time, but still, haha.

In the secular, “popular” music genres in Cuba – Son, Rumba, Salsa – on the other hand such key rhythmic patterns are a bit simplified. Not necessarily easy for non-Cuban novices to Afro-Cuban music, but definitely learnable.

These Cuban Rumba claves and Son claves got usually played with a wooden instrument, rather than with bells as in Africa. With that we’ve come to the other meaning of “clave”: that of the instrument.

INSTRUMENT

A “clave” - or rather plural: “claveS” - as instrument in Cuba, are two wooden sticks: one resting in the palm (the “female”), the other one – the “male” - used to hit it. They were made originally of tropical hardwood (rosewood, ebony, grenadilla), and have a sharp, high-pitched sound.

Some historians state that the wood was also used for shipbuilding, so there might have been difficulty for enslaved Africans to bring the bells from their culture to the West, using these woods instead for that musical function the bells had. Seems plausible, although I imagine “metal” must have also been used by Spanish, Portuguese, and other colonizers (though “metal” came a bit later to Iberia, when compared to other parts of Europe). Perhaps it was less available for the enslaved and their descendants.

These wooden sticks in any case obtained that African “bell” function in Afro-Cuban music forms that would develop: Rumba, Son, etcetera. The original Cuban claves still have the darkish red colour and texture of the ebony wood it is from.

VARIANT

In Cuba itself, other variants of the Claves instrument also developed, such as ones with differing sticks: one bigger (again the “female”) with some holes for resonance, resting in the hand palm, and another smaller “hitting” (“male”) stick. This one (often of rosewood) sounds nice and sharp too, and are usually called “clave africano” or “rumba clave”, as opposed to the “son clave”.

Though mostly made in Cuba, the “africano” in Clave Africano refers to its use in more directly African 6/8 rhythmic patterns. Their colour is often lighter (yellowish, light-red). It has a somewhat “deeper” and “rounder” sound than the original Claves, perhaps explaining its “raison d’etre” in Cuban music genres, like Rumba.

The smaller, darkish brown Claves still are more common, though. These even made their way into Western pop music (e.g. the Beatles’ And I Love Her – though it is no Cuban pattern played with them).

While the rhythmic guideline – or key – the clave carries, “glues” the instruments together, in my experience with live performances I saw in Cuba, or of Cuban music elsewhere, the clave sticks are not always played throughout the whole song, but at the beginning or at some other - ha! – “key” moments in the song. Fading in and out, so to speak.

FERNANDO ORTIZ

Cuban anthropologist scholar Fernando Ortiz (1881-1969) wrote several then in a sense groundbreaking works on Afro-Cuban musical instruments, including also the Clave(s).

He pays much attention to its origins, and emphasizes its relative uniqueness for Cuba. Ortiz still points at similar “sticks”-like instruments in Africa, as well in Southern Spain, another region musically influential in Cuba (especially in the early colonial period), notably the castanets.

He even goes as far as to describe comparable instruments far away as Oceania and Eastern Asia. Eventually, Ortiz concludes that it eventually is a specific Cuban invention, based on older influences (Africa, Spain), but just as much on practical considerations, and local developments.

He also recognizes its rhythmic function derived from African bells, but also points out that it translated as well to more mixed or “white” Cuban cultures; the more rustic, less polyrhythmic folk music of descendants of Spaniards and Canarians (with still some African influences), often guitar-based. The clave played there tends to be more slowly and rustic, different from the “wild” polyrhythmic function it has in Afro-Cuban genres like Rumba, more like the bells in sub-Saharan Africa. These now, ironically, need that clave less, as drums and other instruments already know how to combine and merge.

The claves seem – as the Samba-like patterns but on guitar in Bossa Nova – a reference, but watered-down, to (also) African rhythms. Something like a “clave” (as rhythmic 2-3 pattern) can for that reason also be found in Brazilian music, like Bossa Nova.

The wooden instrument itself indeed maintains its cultural connection to Cuba, more than other places. Making its high, dry sound – especially of the son claves of two similar red-brown sticks – represent a Cuban or Salsa “feel”, also when – as said - slowing down to bolero or ballad-like songs.

Spanish poet Federico García Lorca described the sound poetically as “wooden drops”.

CULTURE

The “clave” is also used as a term for a rhythmic concept, in particular to describe sub-Saharan African polyrhythmic music. Even more particularly to the part author Ned Sublette calls “forest Africa” (South Nigeria, Cameroun, Congo), to distinguish it from “griot” Africa (Senegambia, Guinea), with more Islamic influences and string instruments, and the roots of the Blues.

Ned Sublette, and also a scholar like Robert Farris-Thompson – kind of spread this musicologist term and meaning of “clave Africa”.

The Spanish colonizers – at least in the early stages – had a policy to avoid importing “Islamicized” slaves (literally: “those raised with Moors”), instead getting them from forest Africa, more to the South. In the case of Cuba, relatively many from Yorubaland, the Calabar area (Nigeria/Cameroun), and Congo (present-day DR Congo) These brought the polyrhythmic music – with the clave principle – to Cuba.

English, French, and US colonizers and slave traders had not that policy, and instead made cynically use of the open market the Senegambia and Guinea represented for them as slave source. These enslaved Africans brought the “swing” and melisma musical styles to the US, feeding into Jazz and Blues. Mono-rhythmic – with “swinging” variation around it – and thus with no real use of the “clave” rhythmical “connecting” key.

CREOLIZATION

So, while the clave “whitened”, “watered down” a bit in some Cuban genres (not all), or at least “simplified”, it still represents a sub-Saharan African connection – even regarding wooden instruments used also in Africa, besides bells -, perhaps mixing with remnants of the castanets-culture of Spain, and the rhythms of Flamenco (often tapped on guitar case), and stick use of Canarian (Canary Islands) music, as Fernando Ortiz describes.

There were relatively many Canarian immigrants in Cuba, due to their experience with sugar plantations (unlike mainland Spaniards), and the first Spanish colonizers with and after Columbus tended to be relatively often from South West Spain (Andalucia, Extremadura) from where (Huelva, Cádiz) the ships set sail to the Americas, with some Basques and Castilians among them too.

Later there were Chinese contract labourers as migrants into Cuba, fleeing migrants from St Domingue/Haiti, Spanish migrants from other parts (notably Galicia and Asturias), and slave traders and owners from more industrial parts of Spain, like Catalonia (explaining the Catalan “slave” surnames of a part of the Afro-Cubans, losing – as in British and French colonies – their original African family names, replaced by their owners’ European (in Cuba Spanish, Basque, Catalan, and French) surnames. As slavery expanded some Senegambian/Guinea slaves still ended up in Cuba, with slight musical influences (as the Chinese and Haitians also had).

This was in the later 19th c., but Cuban music by then already had its mixed “clave” base.

The instrument itself – as related to shipbuilding – is of local, colonial origin. The rhythmic key it represents partly, but rooted in Africa, as a process of what Caribbean scholars call “creolization” in the Caribbean: local developments based on African (and other Roots).

CUBANNESS

All this, Ortiz argues, added to the typical Cubanness – of the instrument -, Cuba, with its relatively large percentage of Whites, and racial mixture, some Spanish-African cultural mixtures, with many mulattoes, besides a Black population. He stresses, relatedly, wooden “claves” as such could not be found on other Caribbean islands, until recently.

Moreover, the clave could thrive – both as rhythmic concept and as instrument - within the rich and varied musical culture of Cuba, continuing with its “spin-off” genre Salsa (mostly Son-Cuban-based). This increased its internationalization. In modern US-based Salsa - however - the Clave as instrument tends to be replaced by other "woodblock"-like instruments or by the jeniger plastic based "jamblock", often part of percussion sets.

An interesting history, anyway; a very Caribbean history of survival and creativity.

Dennis and Bob

Dennis Brown became known as the Crown Prince of Reggae. This title was given to him by someone known then as the King of Reggae: Bob Marley, who called Dennis his favourite Reggae artist..

Perhaps such laudatory titles, while creative and playful, should not be taken as absolute truths: especially in a wide and varied music scene as that of Reggae and Jamaican music, with many good singers, artists, and songwriters. Many of whom only did not reach the level of international fame of Bob Marley, or even less than Dennis Brown, who hardly reached the mainstream.

It is interesting, though, to compare these two artists with honorary titles musically. I – and other Reggae fans – did that already.

There is some truth to the Spanish saying "las comparaciones son odiosas" (all comparisons are hateful), but comparing can still be useful to describe and analyze cultural developments.

VOICE

My opinion has always been that purely focusing on “voice” and “singing” Dennis Brown is better than Bob Marley, though this may come close to sacrilege for some. A (Reggae) musician friend of mine, here in Amsterdam, placed a nuance.. "Bob could sing very well, it’s maybe the “timbre” of Dennis Brown’s voice which is prettier or more soulful". In the whole, this friend (a Reggae bass player) further argued: "the lyrics, melodic flexibility, and songwriting, Bob Marley was a “fuller” artist than Dennis Brown".

LYRICS

Regarding Bob’s lyrics I imagined he had a point, though I had some doubts. We must beware of commercial aspects: you just get to hear Marley’s songs much more, so also the lyrics. That being said, I must admit – and said it before, also on this blog – that Bob’s lyrics were special and wise. Much wisdom about humanity, poverty, the Black struggle, and, well, life. This was formulated, moreover, – as Lee Perry said – in accessible, understandable words for many people. That’s a skill Bob Marley had, and made him appeal to many people, especially the poorer people of the world, even outside of Jamaica or the Reggae scene as such.

SINGING

Still, I am willing to argue that Dennis Brown’s appeal was on the other hand not just his soulful voice or timbre. Indeed his singing had even more “reach” (technically/musically) than Bob Marley’s. This reach is not just relating to chord progressions or other such musical issues, but also regarding a certain recognizable, “original” style of singing.

This Dennis Brown singing style has, after all, inspired other singers in Jamaica too, even by their own admittance. Echoes of Dennis’ soulful, powerful “deep tenor” singing can therefore be found in later Jamaican Reggae singers like Frankie Paul, Luciano, and Bushman, and more (e.g. Natty King), relatively lesser known ones. That’s influence.

That voice is a good way to bring lyrics across, but can also “distract” from text, from some perspective. Or it adds another layer, is another way to look at it.

LYRICS

Another interesting question is whether the lyrics and songwriting of Dennis Brown really stayed that much behind those of Bob Marley’s. I heard and read several people say that, but even that is not so clear to me. The “distracting” voice of Dennis may influenced that thought, but is it true?

In other words: did Dennis have lyrics comparable to Bob’s?

An interesting comparison, due to their both being Jamaican Reggae artists with a Rastafari adherence, conscious lyrics and love lyrics, and a short generation apart mostly in the Roots era (Dennis lived on partly through the early Dancehall era), but different degrees of international fame.

MISTRUST

There is mistrust in Jamaica about Bob Marley’s fame being “helped” by the fact that he was half-White, and that musical qualities thus became secondary to racial preferences in the Western world.

Though I would not discard this – as is too often done nowadays – as a “conspiracy theory”, as I think race might have played a role. I also think, however, that it is not the only reason of Bob’ s relative fame, when compared to people like Dennis Brown, Gregory Isaacs, Bob Andy, Peter Tosh, etcetera.

Marley certainly had some extraordinary talents, in particular the combination of them (catchy melodies, memorable lyrics, charisma, and accessibility). Bob maintained his Rastafari and pro-Black stance, confirming his sincerity, even with messages running counter to the dominant Western economic system. Bob himself kept his integrity, in other words, and maybe he could because of his talent and charisma.

MUSICALLY

Besides lyrically, also musically this integrity was kept, but to a lesser degree. The adaptations of Bob Marley's music in the mix (by executive producer Chris Blackwell, mainly) toward Rock and pop were mostly at the cost of rhythm and groove. I as a percussionist notice that even more, probably. Elsewhere on this blog I spoke in a post/essay of April, 2017 - (how time flies..) - of this as “subdued percussion”, i.e. percussion and drums too soft in the mix. For my taste..

This somewhat more “Western” Rock sound (though limited) is not irrelevant for the theme of this post. It explained Bob’s music wider appeal, also outside the Reggae scenes, and among different races.

The Joe Gibbs, Niney, or even the earlier Studio One home-made Jamaican productions of Dennis Brown seemed less “translatable”. Especially the more “Rootsy” ones. Or were deemed as such: it often did not even reach enough of the public in the first place, due to this "commercial" (or ideological?) estimation.

Maybe Dennis Brown’s songs were too Black and Jamaican, for it to have the same international appeal as Bob’s? Or is that just an illusion in some minds, wishful thinking, even?

LYRICS

First the lyrics. I know many of Dennis Brown’s song and I remember several memorable lyrics, phrases from his songs. Singing them. Expressing Rastafari faith, often in Biblical terms, popular sayings. Kind of repetitive, but functional. Rebellious lyrics, against the system, are there too. They are either way more “messages” than stories, and that’s a difference with Bob, I think. Bob tells more original stories in his lyrics, and depicts visual imagery in well-chosen words.

Dennis Brown certainly has intelligent and commenting lyrics, but focusing on mental, or even metaphorical/abstract, messages, Rasta vocabulary (“Rasta children, I and I come from Zion"), or Bible scenes. It is more introverted than Bob’s lyrics, really. Bob looked and commented at the wider world, and many people world wide understood. Also a difference between Dennis and someone like Peter Tosh, who had a more “rebellious”, directly socially commenting image. More political, while Dennis was overall more “spiritual”.

Otherwise put, Bob’s lyrics were more realistic, Dennis’s more symbolic and conceptual. Bob’s more prosaic, epic, and Dennis’s more poetic.

That does not mean that Dennis Brown’s lyrics do not have the same wisdom as in Bob’s lyrics, with similar “emotional truths”, especially when touching human relations.

A good example is the song Let Love In (Your Heart). An essential truth, and well and soulfully sung, kind of meandering (a difference with straighter-singing Bob).

Also songs like Looking and Watching, Revolution, Tribulation, The Half, Concentration, or Rasta Children, contain deeper human wisdoms, way beyond formulaic statements of faith.

The lyrically claustrophobic Three Meals A Day about prison life is minimal, but nonetheless poetic. And again inward-looking: Bob was on the other hand more often outward-looking..

LOVE SONGS

Dennis had more love songs than Bob Marley. Besides a Roots icon, Dennis also became somehow known as a Lovers Rock man, alongside the Cool Ruler. Some of his relatively bigger hits were love songs.

His handsome, joyous – pleasantly seductive - smile when dancing (inherited by his daughter Marla), made him have a sex-appeal with women.

Yet, again: the love song lyrics were also more inward-looking than those of others. Dennis’s relatively biggest hit was Money In The Pocket (high in the UK chart in the 1970s) even spoke of inner, mental processes, rather than the outside world.

If there is one truth about the claims by some that Dennis Brown had less appealing lyrics than Bob, it is that Bob’s extrovert “outward” lyrics appeal more to people than introvert “inner monologues” or mental processes with which Dennis often surrounded his (social) messages.

Maybe that’s all too human, even if superficial. Some might prefer those “inward”-looking lyrics, as some big commercial hit songs at times show. Different tastes, majorities and minorities, etcetera.

SONGWRITING

Lee “Scratch” Perry also said about Bob Marley: “he had the best melodies”. He had good melodies and catchy vocal lines, but “the best” is too absolute. Perry worked a lot with Bob, but several other Reggae artists had a talent for catchy melodies in song, that stay with you. Too many to mention: Bob Andy, Alton Ellis, Gregory Isaacs, Mighty Diamonds, Burning Spear, Culture, Sugar Minott, Chronixx, Tarrus Riley, Beres Hammond, and, yes, also Dennis Brown.

Dennis’s songs like Prophet Rides Again, No More Will I Roam, I Don’t Want To Be A General, If This World Were Mine, Should I, The Promised Land, from early Studio One days: I Have Got To Go, are but examples of memorable songs owing that in part to the strong melodies. Sung well, that also helps.

I am even willing to argue that, overall, Dennis Brown had more immediately catchy melodies in his songs than Bob Marley. More memorable at least, partly due to a fact that I mentioned before: the more repetitive nature of Dennis Brown’s lyrics and songs. This combined with “filler” often wordless “wailing” soul cries (“Oh yeah”, Yea-ah”, “Oh now”) making the lyrics with words – and the chorus lines! - stick out more.. The function of variation.

Bob Marley tended to stick more to the “conventional” Verse-Bridge-Chorus structure of songs, thus more multifaceted and ordered, but recognizable. Dennis Brown in some songs too, but just as often mixed this with “chanting” a main and secondary melody/vocal line, playing with them on the Riddim/music. Not unlike Burning Spear, or another Brown: Barry Brown.

Dennis could pull that off with his talent and soulful voice, but it misses some structure that many are used to in pop songs. Bob had that more (and in a good way). Another explanation for the difference in international fame or (relative) mainstream appeal.

Bob Marley said himself that he wanted to sound like the then Reggae singer Little Roy (of the 1969 hit song Bongo Nyah fame), while Dennis Brown, said his singing style was influenced by earlier Reggae singer Delroy Wilson.

Interestingly, also the relative songwriting styles seemed inspiring: Little Roy more of the Verse-Chorus school, and Delroy Wilson (like Dennis) more of the free soulful singing school.

CONCLUSION

In conclusion, about the reasons for the difference in mainstream popularity between Bob and Dennis: are they commercial? Yes. Racial? Most probably too.

If there are any sensible, nonbiased reasons for the difference of popularity/commercial success, they are cultural. Dennis stuck more to Jamaican cultural interpretations of Reggae, some of which “translated” not so well to non-Jamaican audiences as did Bob’s Reggae, maybe stimulated by the deal with Chris Blackwell and Island. The Joe Gibbs “sound”, and his even “Rootsier” work with Niney The Observer knew few adaptations to European tastes. Luckily, in my opinion. It kept the groove.

That this authentic culture is not always appreciated outside of it, is a lamentable fact in this world, though it is also that there are true fans of authentic cultures other than their own.

Reggae’s international spread proved that, and Dennis Brown is known and respected among Reggae fans all over the world: Black, white, Asian, or otherwise. Several of his songs were not just hits in Jamaica, but also – among reggae fans, at Reggae parties - “inna di dance”, at sound systems, or “inna di club”, throughout Europe, North America, Japan, Africa, and elsewhere. Even well into the Dancehall era.

The translatability is therefore difficult, but not impossible.

Pan Flutes

Some Dutch commentators in newspapers described certain recurring street musicians in Amsterdam as “panfluit-indianen”, to be translated as: pan flute Indians. They referred to South American musicians from the Andes region (Peru, Bolivia, or Ecuador), travelling and playing their pan flute in touristy central Amsterdam streets - as in other cities of Europe -, usually solo or in small groups, combined with singing or other instruments, or even recorded tape music, giving the folk music a pop edge, haha.

The term “pan flute Indians” is in itself condescending, as all dehumanizing remarks are. It can even be considered racist, due to both the “othering” and dehumanization it implies.

While factual, the at the same time condescending qualification, also denies that playing the pan flute – also known as panpipes - is not at all easy. It is a developed skill, connected moreover to a rich musical legacy.

In the case of Peruvian musicians, it is of course the cultural legacy of the Andes region, the highland Amerindians, representing an intriguing world and culture, albeit perhaps clouded by clichés put in our head (lama’s, woolen hats and ponchos). The pan flute combining with the shamanic drum, and guitars, in Andean countries makes an unique, magic feel. Since I am a percussionist, the role of the drum naturally interests me.

Pan flutes are quite known globally as being an instrument in that part of South America, but it has a history elsewhere in the world too. Maybe less known among the common populace. This post is about that.

Historical and archaeological studies found that pan flutes were throughout history known all over the world, in many different cultures. On all continents.

The intriguing thing is – I find – that as main musical instrument it only remained important in a few cultures: the said Andes region, and – for some reason – Romania, in Eastern Europe. Why did it “survive” in particularly those two regions? Perhaps inexplicable, yet an interesting mystery.

Pan flutes are further known – still today – also in a few other places, such as (other) parts of Europe and the Americas, and in Africa and Asia. Interestingly, though, Peru and Romania remain the two countries most associated with the pan flute.

ANDES

In the case of Andean Peru and surroundings, wind instruments predate European arrival, so also the pan flute go back to the Amerindian roots: with the (Spanish) Europeans came later the string instruments, guitar, and guitar-like. Maybe a but comparable to how hand drums might represent the African roots within Black music with also modern instruments.

Elsewhere in the Americas, “scraper” like instruments represent an Amerindian remnant, though these scrapers were also known in African music. In the more maintained and purer Amerindian cultures in the Andean region, the pan flute is definitely a direct connection to the “pre-contact” indigenous culture, as are other less-known instruments used there traditionally, such as shamanic drums.

That means music’s original connection to the natural surroundings, and in that sense “pure” or “pristine”, but also more spiritual.

ROMANIA

Romania as “pan flute island” is more enigmatic. The pan flute’s first use there is, anyway, hidden in the mist of times, though according to some sources not that far back, known since the 17th c. (and perhaps before).

An explanation – though hard to prove – might lie in the relatively large Gypsy, or more correct ethnically Roma(ni) – population Romania has. In fact, percentage-wise, Romania is one of the countries in Europe with relatively the largest Gypsy/Roma population, along with Bulgaria.

In Western Europe, only Spain is known for having a substantial Gypsy/Roma population. In Eastern Europe in a few more countries, with own musical traditions. The Flamenco music of South Spain received some Gypsy influences, but is South Spanish music in essence.

Gypsy music/Roma music in Romania is therefore different, more adapted to the region there, with East European/Klezmer-like traits. As a nomadic people, Roma tended to take musical elements from parts they traveled through, rather than hold on strictly to own traditions, though these (North Indian elements) persist.

Historically known in Ancient Greece too, the pan flute is named after a Greek God Pan, and it might just be that exactly the “nomadic” lives Roma chose to live, made them safeguard ancient musical traditions lost in more settled, modernized communities in the surroundings.

Local, Jewish, Romanian, but also Turkish influences are notable among the Lautari musicians, as the Roma music class is known in Romania. Among the Lautari (named after a lute) various instruments play a role, but also a pan flute. Sources say it was brought by the Turks (also because of etymology of words for it: muscal and nai).

The pan flute is now used seldom among these lautari, though they were known as their “primary” instrument. Besides in Romania, Bulgaria and elsewhere, also in Turkey (and indeed Spain) Roma were known as relatively often musicians.

As with the Spanish guitar of local, South Spanish origin (with Persian/Moorish antecedents), the Roma in Eastern Europe, Greece, and Turkey used local instruments from there, including thus probably the pan flute, and later more violins, accordions, as the clichés on Romanian Roma music are known.

These Roma/Gypsy Lautari musicians in Romania used the pan flute originally, but in time less. Its tradition however survived in Romanian folk music.

ORIGINS

There is even a source that states that the Romanian-area pan flute influenced its used in the Andes region of Peru, since around the 17th c.. This seems nonsense to me, and thus a dubious source.

Maybe driven by too much pride or cultural nationalism, historical sources showed that pan flutes have existed worldwide in various cultures, and it is also common sense. It’s a very basic instrument that could arise everywhere, requiring after all blowing at the edges of different-sized tubes.

Even the presence of Bamboo - while useful - seems not to predispose Eastern Asia, as woods have also been used for them. I learned that this blowing is not that simple, and does at first seem not natural – i.e. requiring effort, as with blowing a trumpet – but it is a skill that in time can be acquired.

A further argument that the pan flute is not of Romanian origin, but known originally world wide, is that they are historically also known in (central) Africa, and centuries back. In the Bantu regions, far from regions of Turkish or Arab influences, and before dominant European colonial influences, such as in Congo, Kenya, South Sudan, and Mozambique, they have a historical presence.

The Luba (DR Congo), Konso (South Sudan/Ethiopia), Shona (Zimbabwe) and Nyungwe (Tete region, Mozambique) peoples, are examples of peoples with an important role for pan flutes in their traditional music.

Today, especially in Mozambique, the “Nyanga” as panflutes are known there, still survive in music.

Its historical presence in China (later reaching Turkey), still in Vietnam, and also in e.g. Papua New Guinea, further shows that pan flutes ere universally human, and not Romanian or Turkish in origin, and not even of Peruvian origin – even if found there from a long time, way before the Spanish came, but even in pre-Inca times). The sizes and shapes (and number of tubes) may differ per culture, as do the musical structures, but the principles of playing are the same.

Pan flute-like instruments were known all over the world historically, though. Another example is the still present pan flute tradition of the Solomon Islands in Oceania, often combined with interesting bamboo percussion.

SURVIVAL

The most enigmatic about this instrument’s history is not so much that it originated (easy to come up with), but rather where and why it survived in certain regions, and others (even neighbouring ones) not.

Why not among other Amerindians, outside the Andes region? Known in certain parts of Iberia historically too, but especially in Galicia (NW Spain) and bordering North Portugal (less known elsewhere on the peninsula), and in Italy mainly in the (far northern) Brianza region, while it was known in ancient Rome as it was in Greece. Why common in Romanian folk music, but not in bordering regions like the Balkan, Bulgaria, or Ukraine? It is less known there, anyway.

Why still maintained in parts of Mozambique, among the Nyungwe people, but absent or less in other parts of Africa as an instrument?

Above all, this shown an interesting aspect of folk culture. Folk culture is largely a natural development, for sure, but also a conscious choice of original creativity, self-expression, an aim of “distinction”, or to use a modern term: “identity”.

“Originality” is what makes folk culture distinct, to summarize. If all folk culture were the same, there would be no folk culture. Its essence lies after all in its originality and distinctiveness/difference from other (surrounding) cultures.

The life-affirming creativity and originality of folk culture is beautiful..

Some cultures chose the pan flute for this, but each in their own distinct ways, as the differences in uses – within wider music and dance - between South America, Europe, and Africa show..

REGGAE

Having become more or less a Reggae connoisseur over time (“expert” sounds so lame), I do have an idea about its use in Reggae music, that is: of the pan flute.

Not really, only a few examples of pan flute or very similar sounds, with Burning Spear’s song Free Nelson Mandela as prime example. Adds a nice touch to that song..

POP MUSIC

The pan flute did reach wider Western pop music here and there, however. With a solo in the famous hit California Dreaming, by the Mamas & Papas, in the equally famous Africa by Toto, as well as - more predictably - in covers of the Andean classic El Condor Pasa, such as by Simon & Garfunkel. Then to songs of other rock/pop acts, from Sting and A-Ha to the Spice Girls, and, well, Shakira..

SEE ALSO: http://music.africamuseum.be/instruments/english/congo%20drc/mishiba.html

https://www.panflutejedi.com/pan-flute-history.html

Obeah

The term “Obeah” can be heard regularly in (older and new) Jamaican Reggae lyrics, often in combination with “man” (“obeah man”), and mostly with a negative connotation. It refers to a kind of magic or sorcery, involving casting spells (“working Obeah”).

This post essentially is about why that is: both the mentioning and the negativity of that mentioning.

ORIGINS

Historical sources on the origin of Obeah (also spelled: Obia(h)) within Jamaica are overall not entirely consistent or uniform, probably due to partly lacking reliable sources. Quite much is known, however. Against all odds, one can say, because in Jamaica’s colonial past, there is an evident bias from the White British ruling class perspective, and from the slave masters. The separate world of enslaved Africans of course preferred an own discourse, but was still influenced and framed by the oppressive colonial context, related to degrees of also mental slavery.

The origins are already controversial in the academic field. An Akan origin (from present-day Ghana, in West Africa) seems most probable, also related to the fact that a large percentage of enslaved Africans in Jamaica were brought from that region (estimated at a bit over 50%). Others, though, found sources – including linguistic ones - suggesting rather a Igbo origin (now SE Nigeria) of Obeah, as Igbo were also among the enslaved in Jamaica (a bit more concentrated in the West of the island), or a Calabar region (Efik) origin, from what is now the coastal border area between Nigeria and Cameroon.

IMAGE

Whatever its precise African origins, it developed in Jamaica in a direction that one can term negatively as a “caricature” or more neutrally (if cynically) as a “survival mechanism”. Most sources seem to confirm that Obeah actually before used to have a cosmology with deities, ancestors, and spirits that could be invoked according to certain norms and rules, part of a certain world view. This got reduced, one can say, to a more practical “spirit invocation” or “casting spells” to protect oneself, or poison or harm enemies. This vindictive, selfish image of Obeah, it more or less maintained among the Jamaican populace, up to today.

This image of Obeah was, by the way, not only maintained by self-interested White planters, fearing overt but also sneaky rebellion by their slaves, associating this subtle rebellion (including e.g. poisoning, or “bad spells”) also with particularly women. The famous female Maroon leader fighting British colonial rulers and masters, Queen Nanny, was also labeled a Obeah practitioner, using it in this case against colonial oppressors.

Not just Whites, but also other Afro-Caribbean faiths and spiritual systems/religion that developed, however, condemned the “trickery” and “withchcraft” of Obeah as “evil” or “devilish” , such as Myal adherents.

MYAL AND NATIVE BAPTISTS

Myal, also of African origin (assumed of Congo origin, with Akan elements), developed among Africans in Jamaica, and maintained clear African spiritual retentions (possession, “spirit” invoking), but made a connection to European Christianity, getting mixed with it, especially with nondominant Protestant churches that became popular in Jamaica, notably in what became known as Native Baptists. This Africanizing through Myal (including in interpretations of the holy ghost/spirit and water baptism as “rebirth” in the African tradition ) was frowned upon by White Baptist missionaries, but could not be stopped, giving rise to Native Baptists as Protestant variant among Afro-Jamaicans..

Yet, within this Afro-Christian Native Baptism (also known as Myalism), there grew also a distancing from other African practices, deemed backward or vile, notably Obeah, from which Myal/Native Baptist adherents distanced themselves, confirming thus its image of an evilous, selfish withchcraft.

Obeah was not presented as edifying or uplifting, only as doing harm within the community, though it was also known to have “healing” and “medicine” purpose that could be beneficial.

It seems that this negative characterization of Obeah among Jamaican Native Baptists (and similar Afro-Protestant beliefs), continued in the later Rastafari movement, indeed also Christian influenced, even if Afrocentric. In fact, some scholars point at influences from Native Baptism on aspects of the Rastafari movement, that arose in the 1930s in Jamaica, but of course not in a vacuum. Some early converts to Rastafari came from families where Spiritual Baptism was practiced.

WIDER CARIBBEAN

The same term Obeah with the same meaning (magic/sorcery/spells for personal, selfish goals) is also known elsewhere in what is known as the British Caribbean, such as in Trinidad, to which certain Calypso songs and lyrics attest, such as by Mighty Sparrow, Chalkdust, and Terri Lyons.

There are – taken broader – also interesting parallels elsewhere in the African Diaspora, such as on the neighbouring islands of Cuba and Haiti.

Santería is well-known as the Cuban variant of Vodou (very simply put), in this case mostly based on Yoruba (SW Nigeria, Benin) beliefs and spiritual ideas, translated in a Spanish colonial (Catholic) context. Like Vodou in Haiti, Santería is not just a “withchcraft” or magic practice, but includes a complex and ordered, spiritual cosmology with specific deities, spirits, world views, and rituals, involving rules and conditions. This sets it apart from how Obeah is now known: a magic practice or “withchcraft”.

Another, more Congo/Bantu-influenced Afro-Cuban faith in Cuba is known as Palo Mayombe (with variants in the Dominican Republic), which is known for spells (a bit like Obeah is known), but both positive and negative, and also praised for folk medicine and natural healing. Image-wise Palo Mayombe is thus somewhere between developed, sophisticated Santería and selfish practical magic as Obeah is known elsewhere in the Caribbean.

In Haiti, Vodou is likewise a complex, ordered world view and cosmology, with elaborate rituals, thus in contrast to its stereotypical, simplified “Hollywood” image of “casting spells” on enemies, through e.g. pins in dolls/puppets. This superficial, withchcraft image in fact resembles how Obeah is known in Jamaica.

There are differences between Afro-Haitian Vodou and Afro-Cuban Santería, of course, at first in relation to origins in Africa: Vodou has a strong Benin (Fon-Ewe) imprint, whereas Santería a strong Yoruba (SW Nigeria) one (geographically East of Fon-Ewe people).

Other differences relate to the colonial and political context. State communism in Cuba since the early 1960s was officially atheist, but also actively discouraged “religion” in public life, albeit not successfully. Privately it went on, and only later the State became more lenient openly, especially when Cuba needed tourism since the 1990s crisis period.

In Haiti, some dictatorships had semi-totalitarian traits too (under Duvalier for instance), but Vodou remained the main popular religion, partly mixed with popular Catholicism.

PROTESTANTISM OR RASTAFARI?

Jamaica, rather, kept up a Protestant Christian image, to which later half-heartedly - and after repression periods - Rastafari was added. Remnants of traditional African religions (Kumina, Burru, Myal, Obeah) were marginalized, and partly vilified. Kumina, however, maintained a more extensive cosmology (like Santería), only with more Congo roots.

Even among Afrocentric Jamaicans, such as those in the Rastafari movement, some expressions as Obeah were criticized, while Kumina was more or less respected as interesting connection to the African roots.

While some spiritual and musical aspects from Kumina even influenced Rastafari – “heart beat” drum rhythms, for instance - , on the other hand the “spirit possession”, “ancestor worship” or “trance” aspects from its rituals were eschewed for being “backwardish” or even “devilish”, and at most “translated “ to metaphors.

One explanation for this, besides a Biblical/Christian influence, is the focus on “naturality” and “reality” in the Rastafari worldview. Also, the emphasis on life, and eschewing everything “dead” (including dead bodies or spirits), which in turn can be a Biblical (Levitical/Nazarite) influence.

This type of (social) consciousness and natural livity does not seem to combine well with the “supernatural” or “magic” one can perceive in some traditional African faiths: such as when spirits (e.g. ancestral ones) take possession of a body when someone is in trance. It also seems at odds with the “sorcery” or “witchcraft” of casting spells for which Obeah and Obeah men are known.

What remains a bit unclear, however, is whether this negative image of Obeah is fully an independent, “own” Afrocentric, Rastafari conclusion, or in fact an indirect result of Western Christian colonialism. White Protestantism fought against such African “magic” ideas from the beginning, and likewise Catholicism (although “looser” Catholics tended to use it to their advance, at times too). In other words: it might be a Biblical and Protestant influence in which Rastafari was by necessity based, as Rastafari poet/thinker Mutabaruka pointed out: Rastafari arose in that (post)colonial Biblical/Protestant context: whether it wanted or not.

In Africa itself, “witchcraft” or “bad”, vindictive magic or spells are sometimes lambasted too, but there the same question applies as in Jamaica: really indigenous or due to Western Christian (colonial) influences?

In the article ‘The first chant: Leonard Howell’s ’The promised key’, with commentary by William David Spencer’, in the volume ‘Chanting Down Babylon: the Rastafari reader (1998, edited by: Nathaniel Samuel Murrell, William David Spencer, and Adrian Anthony McFarlan), this view on Obeah within Rastafari is discussed.

The article is also about early (some say the first) Rasta, Leonard Howell. Howell considered some aspects from African traditional religions useful, also for “healing” purposes, such as from Myal, but was more critical about Obeah sorcery, for having wrong intentions and negative (divisive) effects, even if more or less recognized among Rastas as also part of the African heritage, albeit a troubled (and probably corrupted) part of it.

Later Rastas still associate Obeah with wicked intentions and iniquity, and therefore lambast it. Similar – indeed – to how criminals and conmen are criticized, for dividing and disturbing the community.

This view of Obeah can be seen as a Christian influence, but not entirely. In light of the whole Rastafari worldview and values of positive living, Black/African pride, equality, and naturality – and its community sense – magic spells with bad intentions disturb this community and go against such values, causing divisions and conflicts within the community.

In the article about Leonard Howell mentioned – with quotes by reggae artists like Ziggy Marley or Black Uhuru -, but also in many Reggae lyrics, this is indeed the image of Obeah, even beyond Biblical influences: iniquity, wicked intentions.

CONCLUSION

The negative image of Obeah in Jamaica, including among Rastafari, cannot be so easily explained, and has in fact multiple dimensions and origins. An external Protestant/Western influence is there, but relegating it to this is too simplistic.

The latter becomes especially evident, when one realizes that the Rastafari movement was meant to restore African pride and to build community, i.e. unity. Obeah sorcery, magic, or other “trickery” (such as represented by the trickster spider Anansy sories from the Akan heritage) are too “sneaky” and therefore too dependent on the “powers that be”. For the same reason, Rastas prefer the “lion” as proud symbol, rather than the “trickster” spider symbol, even if from the African heritage. A better, more solid sense of purpose, one might say.

The trickster spider Anancy (from Akan culture) outsmarted on occasion powerful authorities in the stories (associated later with White masters), and likewise Obeah spells were used against White colonial authorities/masters too during slave rebellions. Not consequently though, and just as often the trickery or spells were used against one’s own people, fellow-slaves, fellow-sufferers, etcetera, only out of competition and for personal gain.

It is this divisive inconsistence and competition within the community that Rastafari, after all, also sought to overcome.

Traditional African religions of course have their own cultural complexity and beauty - and social/community functions! - too, as their relative intact remnants in the West also show (Santería, Vodou, Kumina, Candomblé, a.o.), including rich musical and percussive legacies, and keeping alive African, ancestral legacies. They, however, became corrupted too, in a cynical (slavery/colonial/exploitative) context of survival. Rastafari, rather, sought a more positive, assertive and unifying answer to this cynical colonial past, building on, yet going beyond - one might say: "repairing" - these African legacies.

Brazil and the world order

Brazil is the country with the highest number of people of African descent, outside of Africa itself.

The largest country of South America was once an important destination for the trans-Atlantic slave trade. Eventually, it outnumbered in number of imported slaves all other also major destinations in the Americas, numbering well in the millions.

In the course of time, Brazil became independent from Portugal, and in recent times even kind of an “economic power” of sorts. In these times, the BRIC countries, and more updated BRICS countries (Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa), became a common term, representing a counterweight to the dominance of the US.

INFLUENCE

What’s interesting to me is how Brazil - as largest South American country and economy - influenced our lives, or, more personally, mine: my musical and cultural interests notably. How and why?

What is the Brazil that is presented to the world: the Amazon and its Amerindians, Afro-Brazilians (incl. Samba), football, carnival, or the white elite? Clichés and stereotypes, simplified images, or some of its complex reality?

How did this reach me? Growing up in the Netherlands since the 1980s, and with Latin-speaking, South European (Italian and Spanish) parents?

NEOLIBERALISM

In the Netherlands, because of economic might, but also due to linguistic reasons, the US was culturally much more influential, when I grew up. This was especially in mainstream culture and entertainment: pop music, cinema, television. This was in tandem with the US economic influence: companies and brands, neoliberal capitalism (of which I am NOT a fan), to which European countries adapted. Along with it came a commercial, pushy advertizing and "consumerism" we're supposed to take for granted, as Naomi Klein explained well in her work No Logo (1999), with as telling subtitle: 'taking aim at the brand bullies'.

Personally, I think that the type of capitalism, the “Chicago school”, called “neoliberalism” has been an underestimated, virulent evil in this world. Its materialist, “money shark” and pro-rich focus had spectacular effects, but at the same time mainly favoured the wealthy, increasing global inequality.

Its favouring of shareholders, replaced the once more “social” entrepreneurship (called “Rhineland model” by some) in parts of Europe, considering also employees’ well-being and rights to employment, the environment, i.e. a company’s wider social context. This was not all about the money, unlike this US-shaped neoliberalism, where harsh unsensitive firing of employees is stimulated rather than avoided.

Compared to this strong cultural and economic mainstream influence the US obtained in Europe, Brazil remained strongly behind. Even in “Latin” countries as Spain or Italy – and even erstwhile colonizer Portugal -, the US got a more dominant influence than Brazil. Brazil remained an exotic place of which most knew not much beyond football, carnival, samba, bossa nova, and perhaps favelas.

COMPARISON

The comparison between the US and Brazil I chose not randomly: they represent the largest countries in the Americas, the most numerous populations, yet a totally different position in international relations.

This has historical reasons, such as the different colonial patterns, the later date of independence, and all kinds of social and climatic reasons. The connection of the US to the Anglo-Saxon world, ensured its ties to industrialization, that started in Britain in the Late 18th c.

Yet, other countries reached that heightened degree of industrialization, outside of the West, notably Japan and South Korea, as well as China to a degree. Perhaps a tropical climate limits the “super power” potential in this capitalist, exploitative world, seeking control over “raw materials”.

Lula Da Silva apparently just won Brazil’s elections in Late 2022, as I write this. I remember that same Lula Da Silva said in a speech for an international audience, about 20 years ago, (during an earlier presidency, I reckon) that: “for all intents and purposes, Brazil belongs to the Western world”. For some reason, I remembered this. It seemed at odds with his “Left-wing” image, and I do not know if I agree with it fully, maybe only partly.

It is somehow disrespectful to the large African population in Brazil, as well as the original Amerindian population: the only cultural values that matter internationally are supposedly Euro-Western ones. There is however a strong cultural impact of Afro-Brazilians on Brazilian culture and society.

CUBA AND BRAZIL

In that sense, a comparison can be made between Cuba, a country I know better, and Brazil. Both were Iberian colonies and important destinations of African slaves.

For a large part these Africans in both colonies (Cuba and Brazil) were taken from roughly the same regions in Africa. “Roughly” because there are interesting differences regarding the Central African slaves ending up in Cuba and those in Brazil. Historical sources say that in Brazil more enslaved Africans came from is now Angola, and in the case of Cuba more from what is now DR Congo or Congo-Brazzaville, with the cultural differences this implies, even while sharing a Bantu heritage.

It is noticeable in main cultural exports of both countries: the Brazilian Capoeira “martial dance” has clearly precursors in present-day Angola, while Afro-Cuban music genres like Son and Rumba – in turn shaping what we know as Salsa – evidently show Congo region musical characteristics: straight rhythms, polyrhythms and clave, pelvic moves, dances, etcetera. Some of these Central African traits, though, are also found in Afro-Brazilian Samba

To both colonies, also relatively many slaves from Yorubaland (Nigeria, Benin) were brought, but from different parts of Yorubaland, again implying slight cultural differences.

PERCUSSION

As a percussionist, I focused on both cultures (Cuba and Brazil) and its instruments, noting that these instruments differ: partly attributable to different colonizers: the “Portuguese/Lusophone” world e.g. uses more tambourines than the Hispanic one, but also due to different places of origins of enslaved Africans, even if bordering. There are interesting, remarkable peculiarities, alongside partial similarities.

While a “conga-like” big drum can be found in Brazil too - and also like in Cuba several drum types -, there are differences. Tambourines are little used in Afro-Cuban music, but much in Afro-Brazilian music (Samba, capoeira music, carnival). Bongos (two attached small drums of different sizes) are not really found in Brazil, while on the other hand the Yoruba-derived Agogo bell in Brazil (with two connected different-sized bells) has no real equivalent in Cuba, where mostly single cowbells are used.

Friction, rubbed drums with the high “monkey-like” sound, called: “cuicas” are typically Brazilian, although friction drums are used in Cuba, though with a much lower sound.. perhaps more akin to the sound of lions or lionesses. Why that difference in sound? The origins are mostly in Central Africa.

Though as a percussionist I am overall more of the “Afro-Cuban” school and soon also of the Reggae and African schools, in time Brazilian instruments and music influenced me too, making myself even compositions based musically on Afro-Brazilian genres Samba or Afoxé.

Then there are other instruments, developed over time, that became unique to Afro-Brazilian culture, differing from e.g. Afro-Cuba.

Both Cuba and Brazil represent cultural “power houses”, also with regard to internationally spread percussion instruments, each with own characteristics. They influenced music and not least percussion worldwide.

In Cuba, guitars follow either Andalusian (South Spanish) or Canarian models, in Brazil smaller, Portuguese models, all used in Africanized contexts.

Song structures and singing styles came to differ too, in relation to different colonizers and African influences. In part, Brazil also has stronger Amerindian influences.

RACE RELATIONS

Through all these relative differences, within broader similarities (Iberian influences, Central African and Yoruba influences), a main similarity is the racial mixture.

The latter is much stronger in both Brazil and Cuba, when compared to the US, where races “stayed apart” more historically. The Black or White worlds one might distinguish in the US, are less clear-cut in Brazil (and Cuba), though not absent.

Political power, for example, remained – up to today! - for the largest part a Euro or White domain in both countries, in sharp contrast to “the street”. In Cuba, the Castro family (with roots in Galicia, Spain) shows this, but also most of the Communist Party’s leadership are White Cubans. Not representative racially, because in Cuba, about 60 % is either mixed or mostly African, with similar percentages in Brazil.

Also in Brazil, politics and parliament remained long almost “lilly-white”, dominated by people of European descent, thus hardly representative.

This “racial fluidity” – albeit with hypocrisy and inequality – did not reach Europe as much as influences from US-style Black-White dichotomies, echoing in US-style “minority” and "identity” discourses in some multicultural European countries (Britain, Netherlands, Belgium, France).

This again shows a stronger US influence in Europe. This also showed in the relative attention to police violence often targeting Blacks in the US. As I wrote in an earlier article/post, this also happens in Brazil, and in much higher numbers: police killings in the Rio de Janeiro state alone outnumbering those in the whole of US, and disproportionately affecting young Black men. We only hear less about it.

In fact, I think comparing Brazil and the US – as comparable regarding size - and its present position in the world, is useful to highlight some major historically grown inequalities in this world, stemming largely from colonialism.

Brazil is not really a “white" nation, but mostly mixed, with large minorities of mainly Africans or mainly Europeans - or Amerindians in some regions -, but mostly mixed, often also culturally. This is further complicated by migrations, such as the large Japanese community in the big city Sao Paolo, Italian and German migrants more in South Brazil. Nonetheless, Brazil has an image of “racial mixture”, including Africans.

The US, despite its quite large African American minority, has the image of a “White”, European/Anglo-Saxon country, presenting itself to the world as such. With this, it gained power and influence and maintained it, showing – as much more - the colonial legacy of white supremacy today.

Neoliberalist capitalism is largely a “US” invention, but another “economic model”, for instance developed in Brazil, would not be so influential and popular. We are stuck with the “hard”, shareholder-biased capitalism of neoliberalism, bearing a clear WASP (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant) system of values. A bit more popular or looser, Third World or “Latino” minded approach to economic life would actually be refreshing, but has little chance to influence European or global affairs.

NEW WORLD ORDER

The recent lockdown policies and alignment with Big Pharma and Business of most Western countries, only showed that this neoliberal capitalism only became “harder”, until reaching totalitarian, Fascist characteristics.

The term Fascist I chose specifically, because the alignment of Big State and Big Business we now see, has a precursor in Mussolini’s Fascist policies in Italy since the 1920s: this was called Corporatism, sharing the same principle: big money is big power.

The former President of Brazil Jair Bolsanoro was not perfect, said some nonsensical things probably, but at least was to a degree justly critical of such lockdown/fascist directions and of Big Pharma’s and WHO’s influence. He differed in this from more compliant leaders, also in Latin America, and in the West.

Some Brazil experts I know here in the Netherlands, told me that Bolsonaro – while White and Middle-Class - did not come from the traditional elite (with its dubious links to the historical plantocracy), and as an outsider was more independent.

That the newly elected President of Brazil, Lula Da Silva, once said – as mentioned - that “for all intents and purposes, Brazil is part of the West”, does not seem promising for an own course, though some commentators say he wants to go an own way. It will be merely “neoliberalism with a social face”, Dutch scholar Kees Van Der Pijl said.

I can only hope that his election does not represent a “putting in line” of Brazil’s government policies with global governance – present neoliberal fascism -, or any Agenda the UN has (2030), which do not benefit the poor people of this world (only in name).

That’s another thing, when comparing the US and Brazil: Brazil has (overall) still a much higher poverty rate than the USA, including predictable racial disparities.

Lula Da Silva must know this too. Would he sell his soul to this globalist capitalist elite at the cost of his multiracial people?

Time will tell, and will show whether the elections were indeed fraudulent, or that corruption/bribing is hidden from sight.

If this is the case, the vague yet outdated image of Lula Da Silva as anti-elite Left-wing is precisely that: an outdated memory, past and gone, fake and false, in this negatively changing, corrupted world of politics, shaped by a global, Western-led capitalist elite.

Unfortunately, Brazil is then indeed part of this exploitative Western world, and more compliantly so. Such as it became since colonialism.

Melisma

“Melisma” is an interesting word. While its meaning might be relatively unknown among many, it describes a phenomenon that is somehow known and encountered by many, yet not mentally or rationally “named” as such.. perhaps because there was not really a need to “name” it.

Simply put: melisma is a singing style stretching one syllable over several notes. Often resulting in one “vocal run” across notes (but of one syllable). This can thus be contrasted to “syllabic” singing, with each syllable representing a note. The latter, syllabic singing, is much more common in large parts of the world, including in Western pop music.

On the other extreme, though, are regions in this world where “melismatic” singing is very common, even close to “the norm” and have a long tradition: the Middle East, North Africa, parts of Eastern Africa, India, but also the Greek Orthodox world, and the South of Spain, with Flamenco as known "folk music"/world music example.

Its origins is dated at least to 3.000 years back.

In these regions melismatic singing has a century-long tradition, with dominance in certain (sub)genres, especially more “religious” singing or “free” singing, less bound to certain rhythmic patterns. Within Flamenco, some subgenres have a fixed, faster rhythm and therefore allow less melismatic singing, though some skilled singers still can pull it off. Outside of these regions and influences, it has somewhat of a tradition in singing in the Celtic and Slavic world, in some aspects and song forms.

To most people’s ears, in its rough form, though, melisma reminds of North African and Arabic music, though it is also found in Jewish singing, and in Ethiopia, which has a long Christian tradition. There is thus no specific religious connection, also as it became common in European Gregorian chanting as well, though with different “feels” (more intense in North Africa).

TOWARD POP

Global Spanish influence, and Islamic influence, might have helped spread melisma wider, though often mixed with local precedents. After all: it does not seem so strange a thought to “lengthen” vocally a syllable or word over several notes, for an effect of “intensity” for instance.

This effect of “intensity” made it common in Black music in the Americas as well. From religious Gospel to secular Soul and R&B, and related genres. Again, like in Flamenco, more in the “slower”, less rhythmically bound genres, with “freer” singing.

Melismatic singing can thus be found here and there in songs by Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, and Aretha Franklin, and even more in songs by Whitney Houston, Deniece Williams, Mariah Carey, Luther Vandross, as it entered more the Western pop mainstream. Whitney Houston’s mass global hit ‘I will always love you’ is said to be the song that popularized “melismatic” singing most.. even among people who did not know the word “melisma”.

Houston’s song is a good example, becoming especially powerful with actually good singers with extraordinary vocal reach: like Whitney Houston, but also Mariah Carey, or Luther Vandross, to name some known ones, using melisma.

In this Black “soul” music, it is often associated with the more-or-less spiritual concept of “soul” itself, due to its intense feel, though not the only component – of course – of “soulful” singing, but an important one.

Even more structurally, also in secular “pop” music in e.g. Ethiopia – Ethio-pop - melisma is used, as in Spain (even in “flamenco pop”), in Hindustani Pop or in modernized pop-like music in North Africa (like Rai) and the Arab world.

I myself tried to sing melimatically too, of course (e.g. in the chorus of my song "Mañana Mañana"). I found it was - as so often - not as easy as it seemed: a skill requiring both experience and commitment, really only learned within a culture itself. Others only can (maybe) come close.

In other contexts, the “trance-like” feel of melisma and multi-notes syllable has a kind of religious function, in spiritual contexts, such as in the Islamic world (think of the mosques’ Muezzin chanter calling for prayer), Jewish services, or Gregorian chants. Also in the Hindu world of India there are examples of this.

RHYTHM

Though I like all music, I consider myself a “rhythm man” (I play percussion, for one). An interesting question I therefore find is in how far melisma in singing can be combined well with a groovy rhythm. Vaguely I know this to be the case, finding the challenge of fitting melisma in the rhythm of singers intriguing.

Good examples I know from Stevie Wonder, Reggae songs by soulful singers like Alton Ellis, Dennis Brown, Don Carlos, and Ijahman Levi (example: song Moulding), but in fact Ijahman Levi uses melisma in several songs.

Also other singing styles found within Reggae “echo” melismatic traits, certainly the “Waterhouse style” (named after a ghetto area in Kingston, Jamaica) “wailing” chant, with some hints towards “yodeling”, but likewise to soulful melisma, by singers like Michael Rose and Yami Bolo, and in the band Black Uhuru (where Michael Rose long sang)

In Flamenco, it is common to restrain/keep from melisma in faster, more rhythmically bound subgenres of Flamenco – sticking there more to syllabic note-per-syllable singing, although very skilled singers, such as Arcángel, are revered for “fitting” melisma in the rhythm/beat (“compás” in Spanish). In Flamenco this skill is praised as “velocidad” (literal: “velocity/speed”): fitting melismatic singing in faster rhythms.

Several already mentioned Reggae artists proved as well that melismatic singing can be "fitted" well in a good Reggae groove (Black Uhuru!), as did Soul or R&B singers.

Also Ethiopian music genres with strong rhythms often combine successfully with variants of melismatic singing, often faster types.

It is thus not restricted to “ballad”-like songs, or slow Soul or R&B. Some Soul singers made upbeat, “dance” song using melisma, such as Beyoncé and Leona Lewis.

So, interesting from the musical perspective is its link with “rhythm”. In fact, one can argue that melisma relates more to relatively “rhythmic” music, as also Spanish folk music is known (compared to the rest of Europe). Melisma and flexible rhythms seemed made for each other.

“Straighter” rhythms as in the Sub-Saharan African tradition, i.e. clave-based polyrhythmic pieces, with its rhythmic “tight complexity” and call-and-response, allows less melismatic singing, or extended notes.

Cuba inherited that tradition through its African-descended population, mainly from that “clave-based” polyrhythmic cultural region (Congo region, Yorubaland, Calabar), while singing more similar to melisma can be found in the (guitar-based) “Punto” or "Punto Guajiro" genre in rural Cuba, which is said to represent influences from other historical heritages in Cuba: of the Canary islands and South Spain, including Flamenco-like vocal influences.

To a lesser degree, these also show in vocal parts in Son and Salsa, mixed in with African (esp. Congo) influences.

Part of the variation in singing – of say: a lead singer between the chorus - is also covered as African languages are mostly tonal, so “up and down” movements are inherent to the languages, whereas in languages like Arab and Spanish this should be deliberately searched by own intonation.

COMPENSATION

That is also an interesting way to look at it, and I think an interesting conclusion: melisma as musical/vocal “compensation” for speaking a non-tonal language, like e.g. Arab, Hindi, English, or Spanish, thus adding desired vocal variety and fluctuation. Bantu languages, for instance, have that inherently, but this vocal varying is sought by in other languages too, apparently.

Always pleasant to notice that there’s more that unites humanity worldwide than divides it, which at the same time – as a nice irony - translates in quite different cultures and music styles.. This only makes this world more varied and interesting.

We’re not the same, but we’re equally creative. Something like that..

Reggae music lovers (in the Netherlands): Mystic Tammy

How people got to be reggae music lovers or fans has always fascinated me. Maybe partly because reggae still is off/outside the mainstream, also in the Netherlands. It is not found that easily, let’s just say. It requires (to a degree) an extraordinary life path: that is, different from copying the masses, or simply following what’s commonly on television or the radio.

Reggae has of course since decades gone international and widened its fan base, but I have known individually quite different reggae fans within the Netherlands. Black and white (and Asian, or mixed etc.). Males and females. Old and young. Some with little education, some highly educated. Of different class backgrounds. Some combine liking reggae quite equally with other genres (e.g.: some with African, funk, soul, some with hip-hop, some even with non-black music genres), while others on the other hand adhere almost “strictly” to reggae music, and do not get into much else. Some like roots reggae more than dancehall or vice versa. There are even reggae fans – believe it or not - who do not smoke the “ganja herb”.

Furthermore, some have an interest or sympathy for the related subject of Rastafari, some do not, or even despise it. The latter, despise, I find somewhat odd since Rastafari is not the same as reggae, but is nonetheless connected to it.

These differences (and similarities) between and among reggae fans/lovers intrigue me, also in relation to personal backgrounds. That’s the reason why I would like to interview specific individuals who love reggae.

Before this I have interviewed 11 persons – reggae lovers I know, “breddas” (meaning “brothers”, or "friends" in Jamaican parlance) of mine – here in the Netherlands.

I started the series on this blog with a post of June 2012, when I interviewed Abenet. In April of 2013 I interviewed Bill. After this I interviewed Manjah Fyah, in May 2014. For my blog post of August 2015, I interviewed, somewhat more extensively, (DJ) Rowstone (Rowald). In August 2016, then, I interviewed Vega Selecta. In October 2017, I interviewed DJ Ewa. Then, for my post of September 2018, I interviewed for the first time a woman, namely Empress Messenjah or Empress Donna Lee. In August 2019 I interviewed another woman, namely Sound Cista. For my blog post of September 2020 I interviewed another Reggae-loving woman, French but living in the Netherlands, Selectress Aur'El. For my blog post of September 2021 I interviewed again a "bloke" (fun way to say" "man") selecta Hobbol Backawall.

MYSTIC TAMMY

This time, I interview a woman again, namely a female selecta/selectress (deejay) residing in Amsterdam, the Netherlands, called Mystic Tammy. Besides selecta, she is also a Reggae-oriented radio host for Razo (a local Amsterdam SE station), under the title Mystic Royal Selections. She is known as Mystic Tammy, and her real name is Tamara Wijngaarde.

I personally know her from the Reggae scene since around 2012, as Reggae selecta in some Reggae-minded clubs, or concert venues, in Amsterdam and around, such as Café the Zen, or at other events and locations in the country. I tended to like her selections. I noticed how she made quite a name for herself, also as a radio host for Razo Amsterdam (https://razoamsterdam.nl/), interviewing many local artists, and also several internationally known (Jamaican) Reggae artists like Bushman, by phone live during broadcast. Lately, her show was Sundays starting at 15:00 CET, meaning that it was (6 hours earlier) in Jamaica, often in the morning, but I remember nice and informative interviews with Bushman, Nature Ellis, and many other well-known artists on her show, as well as with local, Netherlands-based artists, like Samora and Zed I, in the studio. Her (after all: online) show seems to have an international audience.

Kind of true to her "nickname" or "moniker" Mystic, I did not know that much more of her, though on occasion she spoke quite openly with me. Still some mysteries about Tammy are left to unfold, also for me, haha. That's why I asked her the questions underneath, as she responded them, also in person with me in an open conversation. We met among other things in the Reggae-minded (duh!) bar named Jamaica Lounge in Amsterdam (West).

(Photo above: me (L.) with Mystic Tammy)

QUESTIONS

Where were you born, and did you grow up?

In Suriname, born in 1975. Grew up in the Netherlands, from around my 4th year. Lived in different places in the Netherlands: a.o. Lelystad, Groningen, Purmerend, the South, before now (last 10 years) in Amsterdam..

In Groningen (North Netherlands) I lived around 17 years.

Since what age did/do you listen Reggae music?

I first heard Reggae as a child, because my father had quite some records, incl. some Lovers Rock Reggae.. He gave me a cassette of Prince and UB40, which was played at my house, incl. Dennis Brown, Peter Tosh, Bob Marley at times.. More often as genre I heard the Surinamese genre Kaseko, growing up.

At home also a lot of Gospel, as my parents were active Christians for the Evangelische Broeder Gemeente - EBG - (Moravian Brethren), a Protestant Church (of German origin) historically adhered to among Creoles in Surinam, and they were quite religious. So Gospel, and other Black music too, like Soul, Motown.. Further, even some Dutch "crooners" like André Hazes were played, haha.. So quite varied.. With that music I grew up.

When I was grounded as punishment to my room at home, I listened also secretly to alternative “pirate” radio stations..

As I got older, I also started listening to House music more. For some reason I chose that.. I don’t even feel any shame for it, haha.

Alongside this, though, Reggae, I always kept in mind, as I appreciated the messages in Reggae, and the “tranquility” it somehow gave me. It always stayed with me, even during that House period.

As I was a teenager, Early Dancehall (Reggae) was in vogue, and I chose to listen to that too: Shabba Ranks and others, such as that found on those Strictly The Best compilation albums, my father had. I encountered that in my high school period: I started smoking weed then too, so that Reggae was connected to it.

What attracted you to Reggae then?

As said, the messages, and tranquility I found in Reggae.. Life lessons too, as girl/young woman growing up.

More or less from my 23th year of age, I got more into Reggae, after an uncle of my gave – or left - me a lot of Reggae records (vinyl). I delved into it, and in Groningen then (I lived there 17 years), went to Reggae concerts and parties, incl. in Oosterpoort and elsewhere.. Also played as vinyl deejay in bars. From then on I played mostly Roots Reggae, as from that vinyl collection inherited from my uncle: LKJ, Ijahman Levi, Dennis Brown, Israel Vibration, Desmond Dekker, and many more.

Through this scene, I got into contact with people from the Forward Sound Movement – a Reggae sound system - in Groningen. Steely from Round Beat HiFi approached me first as I was Selecting/deejaying, and got me into the Groningen-based Forward Sound Movement, training me further in Reggae “selecting” (from vinyl).

As deejay, they called me Mystic Tammy.. That moniker with “Mystic” came from that time in the Forward Roots Movement: they called me that, don’t know exactly why: maybe they thought I was kind of mysterious, as I indeed can be.. Or because of the type of songs I played/selected..

We continued with the Groningen-based dj/selecta collective Forward Sound Movement (sometimes cooperating with Jah Sound), with other dj’s like Fabulous D, Jah Jenco, Peacemaker, and Broer Hazekamp. In places/bars in Groningen, but also played at Reggae Sundance in 2005 (South Netherlands), but even travelled internationally to Germany, Tyrol, and got even mentioned in the Riddim magazine. We saw a lot.

This was all when I lived in Groningen: I only live now in Amsterdam since about 10 years (since around 2012).

Have your musical preferences changed, since then?

Now I am mostly a Roots Reggae lover, but like to listen Motown music too, quite a lot.

Also, I am really into Afrobeat now, some nice female artists in in it!

Do you have preferences within the broad Reggae genre? Does e.g. Digital Dancehall appeal to you as much as Roots Reggae?

Roots Reggae mostly, only once so often Digital Dancehall.. I tried to play Dancehall as selecta early on, as part of the Forward Sound Movement, but we concluded it was too “slack” (sexually explicit/violent).. I stuck then to my Roots Reggae, and was glad to: gave me more tranquility. The positive message is also important for me: reason why I focus on the chorus with the main message: mixing Reggae also like this (from Chorus to other Chorus lyrics on riddims), to get the message across..

Messages are after all important for me, and I don’t want to play slackness.

Within Reggae, it is hard for me to say whether I am more a fan of some artists than of others. I enjoyed the Burning Spear concert, and I love Roots concerts, but really am not selective as fan.. Reggae is so broad. Sometimes I listen more to that artist, other times to others..

There are some songs, though, that are important, for me personally.. An example is: I Am That I Am by Peter Tosh, or Pick Myself Up by Peter Tosh.

There was also a period that I listened a lot to Lucky Dube, but at a given moment it made my kind of sad, because of its heaviness. It all depends on my phase or mood, I guess..

Since when are you a radio host?

I am a radio host since about 10 years, started at Razo (local South East Amsterdam radio station) around 2012.. I like it there: I can do my thing..

Actually, I started out with Esta Selecta, taking me under her wings. Kind of..because she wanted to make me into another Esta Selecta, but I wanted to become more “Tammy”, do my own thing, and could do that at the Razo station.

Recently I try to put variety in my shows, Roots, but occasionally also Dancehall. Since I am host, I get a lot of music sent, digitally, from (local and Jamaican) artists who want their music to be played in my show. I keep most of it, but I really have to like it, “feel” something with it, to play it on my show. Some don’t like that, but it’s my show.

Do you have a (format) preference for Vinyl or digital/cd? As selecta/dj or listener.

I started out as said as a vinyl deejay/selecta, involving a lot of carrying and lifting of boxes with records .. With my back problems, digital formats became easier: all music on a USB stick.. I still prefer the sound of vinyl, though: it makes the sound more real, even if slightly “scratchy”..

Do you play musical instruments, or are you in other ways active musically?

I play some percussion and sing sometimes. I have three djembe’s of different sizes, I play them sometimes on music at home. I would love to learn to play the bass guitar too, do more with guitar playing.

Did you have any special experiences or encounters in the course of time (with artists or producers)?

Several.. One very special one was with Burning Spear, at Reggae Sundance (festival near Eindhoven, Netherlands) in 2005, - before the “selfie” and smartphone age -, but very memorable.. Just being there, reasoning with such a great artist. Turbulence I met also there. I had many special and memorable meetings with artists, such as with Bushman. Backstage contact is sometimes difficult, because more people want attention of that same artist..

Very nice was also my meeting of Junior Kelly during a concert he did with Jahbar I in P60 (Amstelveen), not long ago in 2019: he was very kind and open..

I met the artiste Jah Mason in Jamaica, also very special: seeing how he was really active with farming. Saw a nice show in Ocho Rios (Jamaican North coast) of Iba Mahr and others, Twelve Tribe people were there, Lutan Fyah came there, and other artists. So we were with them.

Does the Rastafari message in much Reggae appeal to you? How does this relate to your background, and views?

My parents and family belonged, as already mentioned, to the EBG (Moravian Brethren) , a Protestant Christian Church, and were quite religious. I had to go to Sunday school, was in a church choir.. Yet, I have always been a rebel.. at one point I did not want to go anymore to that Sunday school.

In time, when I grew my dreadlocks, my parents were at first “not amused”, I becoming kind of a “black sheep”, but they accepted it over time, we worked it out, and I now have good bond with my parents.. They do their thing, I do mine..

I do not really present myself just as Rasta, even though they call me that.. I am just Tamara.. I try to do/enact “my own way” of Livity within Rastafari, progressing well in that sense..

I am mostly looking at the “pureness” of myself as person. However, I certainly feel there is more to all this materiality, more between heaven and earth. Some kind of divinity within us..

Most of all, I believe in “eternal love”..

How do you judge/evaluate the present-day position of women within the Reggae scene?

As a woman I do find it kind of hard.. I encountered a lot of prejudice and negative assumptions, such as the presumption that I only reached some positions or achieve things by “opening my legs” to some men. I don’t like that judgmental attitude. Accept people as they are, and let people do their own thing, I would say.

In the Forward Sound Movement back then, I was the only female deejay/selecta, but that was a fun time with oneness among us..

In the course of the years, however, I certainly fought my way through all this machismo.. if I wanted to stop, I would have stopped a 10.000 times. I just fought on and hung in there. Sometimes you need to be “tough” too and firmly defend yourself.

As a woman (deejay), men tend to “expect” more of you, want something or start flirting. When you don’t go along or refuse, they even call you arrogant or bitchy.

In my mailbox, I even get certain sexual ”pictures” or “wishes”.. Of course, I block these then..

Despite the number of female deejays/selecta’s having increased in recent times, we still have it hard in this world.. Women still have to be firm and stand their ground in this business.

Also the number of Reggae artistes have increased, recently, like Queen Ifrica, Black Omolo, and Lila Ike is blossoming now. Furthermore, here are also icons like Rita Marley and Marcia Griffiths, still performing.

I do not think Reggae is worse in this male bias/machismo than other genres, though.

What Reggae artists do you listen to now, any specific artists? Any new “discoveries” you would like to mention?

I kept up to date with all Reggae developments, and appreciate the “new school” of New Roots (Chronixx, Richie Spice, Etana, etc.), and artists playing on Reggae Jam and other festivals, such as Nkulee Dube, but even an artist like Mavado I got to appreciate more..

With regard to “new” Reggae artists I think some are good and somewhat underrated, such as Mortimer, Stranjah Miller, Jahbar I, Micah Shemaiah is also very good, and Samory I. Also, Etana – although not really “new” anymore – does good things. Yeza, a good female artist who sang with Sizzla, is also worthy of mention.

REFLECTION AND COMPARISON

This was a very informative interview for me, and indeed some mysteries were "resolved" about Mystic Tammy - Tamara -, at least for me.

Interesting how the "route to Reggae" could differ somewhat between the different people I interviewed for this blog section (Reggae lovers in the Netherlands) over the years, from parents to siblings, or in other cases, via friends or media, and the relationship to other music genres around them when growing up. Reggae has gone international and has spread widely, but some heard it already at their parental house.

Some parents were religious, such as Tammy's, influencing music played (e.g. Gospel) or the ease of acceptance of Rastafari encountered in life.

As some other female interviewees already mentioned: it is not always easy for a woman in a male-dominated music industry, as selecta, or otherwise, though they also found support. Moreover, I personally doubt whether the Reggae scene is more male-biased or macho than other music genre scenes, including Western pop, or genres like Country, where certain roles are expected from women, when they are accepted as equal at all. So that is a wider problem. Mystic Tammy did point out that it still is kind of a struggle, also within the Reggae scene, with challenges and botherations men might meet less.

As a child I liked Stevie Wonder, not long before I got into Reggae in my Early Teens, so that is some "Motown" similarity with what Tammy mentioned. My parents were loosely, socialist-minded "free" Catholics, and Italian and Spanish, so I did not hear much "religious" music (Gospel, church songs) at my house, but more "Latin" music. Other interviewees heard yet other music first (and even lacked a "Caribbean region" background, like Tammy, and other interviewed before) - or listen still alternately to other music too (Punk, Rock, African, Soul, Pop, Hip Hop, even House) - to differing degrees -, but we all ended up in beautiful and varied Reggae music, haha. Each with, as is natural, own personal preferences within it. I share with Tammy, and with other interviewees, a preference for Roots Reggae, from artists like Burning Spear, as well as for New Roots (Iba Mahr, Samory I, Lutan Fyah, a.o.).

The Netherlands is a relatively small country - if densely populated and wealthy -, but strange enough I was not fully aware that the city of Groningen (w. around 200.000 inhabitants), in the North of the Netherlands, also had an active Reggae scene, by the 1990s, just like Amsterdam has, with various selecta's/deejay's and sound systems.. but why wouldn't it? International reggae artists often performed also in Groningen's Oosterpoort venue regularly, after all.

All in all, very insightful!