I finally made it out to see La Melaza, a cuerda comprised of women players. The title of the post is a modification of something that Juan "Perico" Gularte said at the Coloquio Internacional on Sept 30: "La Melaza es una flor insertada en candombe/La Melaza is a flower inserted in candombe." I found this an eloquent and beautiful statement.
There's not much to add to this yet. I followed the group along their parade route, and got some contact info. So now I'll try to start gaining some trust, but plan on returning as often as possible just to enjoy their playing.
During their break, I shot this short video. These are my favorite parts of the experience in the streets. A small group drumming, joined by dancers. Spontaneous and just for the joy of it.
I've taken it for granted that many readers know why I named this blog Huracándombe. Uruguay was placed on my musical map as a student at the Unviersity of Miami, home of the Hurricanes, or huracán in Spanish. Originally I thought it was a clever title for the final piece on my final doctoral recital, but decided it seemed appropriate for the blog.
Ironically, I spend most of my time playing the drums of candombe at Club Huracán in Buceo, one of Montevideo's many neighborhoods. This was not planned. I mentioned the group in an earlier blog, but after spending a lot of time there this weekend, wanted to show some gratitude here.
With most things I do in Montevideo, I feel like I'm working. My plan in the first few months was to hopefully have opportunities to play the drums, and get a feel for learning music that didn't involve a classroom. If I had not met Guillermo Ceballos, the jefe de la cuerda, in August, I'm not sure I'd be playing very often. Even though I would have seen and heard a lot of playing, my ability to recognize detail in the rhythms is due to my experience as a part of the ensemble of drummers in Buceo. I truly believe my improving Spanish is a result of this experience as well. I guess what I'm trying to say, is that while in Buceo, I don't feel constantly reminded that this is a project for a degree. And for me, it really is so much more than that.
At some point I'm going to have to ask how they feel about having an estadounidense participating, but I'm leaving that for later (though am always open to responses). I do always feel welcome though, and that's gone a long way to making my stay here easier. This is after all, the first time I've travelled internationally, and it's a bit more than a vacation. My hope anyway, is that I can somehow show everyone there how much I appreciate their hospitality.
Wanted to write this post though, because I had a really great weekend. Friday I played in Las Piedras, an area just north of Montevideo known for its vineyards. Driving in, it was quite nice to see some open space, and a little less city. We played some drums, and I personally indulged in asado, chorizo, and wine. The bus ride home was surreal, but with the exception of the alcohol, not much different than those bus rides home from high school band competitions (I know for many, even the alcohol here might sound par for the course).
Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturdays we play. I finally have some video from a rehearsal yesterday (10-28). Hopefully there will be much more. And since I probably haven't said it publicly, to my fellow Huracánes: Gracias por todos!
"From the
viewpoint of the Americas…it appears that the primary value of what exists of
Africa is that it provides a basis for the development of tradition, for
exploring new directions without loss of musical identity. Africa, therefore
provides a source of strength. That is why African roots must be viewed in
terms of creative processes that allow for continuity and change" (J. H. Kwabena Nketia, Ethnomusicology and African Music, 335).
"I consider myself a son of the world, but also a son of Africa" (Daniel Vidart, translation from presentation at the Coloquio Internacional Montevideo: October 1, 2011).
J. H. Kwabena Nketia
Earlier this month I had the pleasure of hearing presentations by Joseph H. Kwabena Nketia, Ghanaian musicologist and composer, and Daniel Vidart, Uruguayan anthropologist and poet. Both men spoke at the Coloquio Internacional de Música in Montevideo, themed "Music between Africa and the Americas." It was a weekend of ethnomusicological presentations, confrontations, and more often than not, candombe. I highlight these two because after their presentations, I walked away inspired; unlike many of the heated exchanges that took place during Q&As with other speakers.
In my previous post, I cited Kofi Agawu, and the idea of "seeking sameness in order to highlight difference." This is why I began this post citing Professor Nketia, whose presentation closed the Coloquio. His message was overwhelmingly one of highlighting not just difference, but the "significance of difference." Admittedly, I'm still wrestling with why I feel the addition of "significance" adds a more positive vibe to the study of difference. Quite possibly it's because in so many discussions of music, I feel we highlight the negative qualities of difference.
Returning to the first quote by Nketia, I'd like to point out that statements like this are often criticized for painting a portrait of a unified, homogenous continent. However, it would be silly to believe, even for a moment, that Professor Nketia isn't aware of the geographical, ethnic, linguistic, and cultural diversity of his native country. When reading literature regarding the music of Africa, the common thread is not often a lack of diversity, but the significance of community within the diverse musical cultures. Therefore, viewing Africa as "a source of strength" provides the sense of a place free of segregation, unlike the Americas. Of course this is a utopian ideal, but perhaps one that is needed in the building of communities, and even nations. I also appreciate that this statement doesn't mention race, since anyone who has grown up in popular cultures of the Americas and the Caribbean has taken part in the "processes" of "continuity and change."
Daniel Vidart
The important part is to recognize this, as Professor Vidart stated. We are sons and daughters of the world...sons and daughters of Africa. To borrow one more quote from the Coloquio, this time some lyrics from the musicologist Pete Seeger, through his nephew, also a musicologist, Anthony Seeger: "We're all mixed up." This is all leading me to a post on heritage, patrimonio. A word that for me, being from South Carolina, has always carried a lot of baggage.
As I keep my fingers crossed for some candy this Halloween, or Noche de brujas as it's called in Uruguay, I decided to open this post with a festive game. Can you spot the scary differences?
Congrats, you did it!! Now to tie it in...
Since September I spend most mornings reading. Mainly books by Uruguayan authors that were not easily accessible in Miami, but also literature regarding anthropology, musicology, methodology, and/or theory. Quite often I finish these works wanting to spit verbal venom. So much so that I have fantasized about academic discourse being a lot like the rap battles in 8 Mile, only replace the explicit urban lyrics with intellectual colloquies. But this is neither here nor there...oh wait, except that is about the highlighting of difference!
Recently, while searching for materials to support using "Western" notation for my candombe transcriptions, I came across Kofi Agawu's"The Invention of 'African' Rhythm"(Journal of the American Musicological Society,1995). In the closing paragraph of his examination of the "politics of notating African music," I found the following statement inspiring:
"An ideology of difference must be replaced by an ideology of sameness so that--somewhat paradoxically--we can gain a better view of difference" (393).
Lately I've noticed the "sameness" between traditions of the cuerdas, and those of the drumlines of the United States (and elsewhere, though I'm only comparing with my own experiences). Of course there are differences, many of which are visibly and aurally obvious. But even aurally...a drummer that doesn't enjoy an amazing groove has to be in the minority, right? Within both exists various military-like heirarchies, from the jefe de la cuerda (drum captain) to the more specific section leaders. There are the identifying colors found on uniforms, flags, and even with special paint jobs for the drums. Each group has its followers, as well as those who don't like when things change. Both feature the politics of competition.
I would like to call attention to one difference with the "drumlines" of Uruguay: you don't age out. Continuity is part of candombe's tradition, unlike in the United States where age or graduation brings an end to participation. This doesn't mean an end to performing, and often the "age out" process opens doors to instruction. But I wonder...does our tradition cause a lack of appreciation for maintaining a sense of community? It seems increasingly rare that percussionists (and other musicans) seek to create strong bonds on local levels, in favor of pursuing the most elite positions.
But now I've gone beyond what I wanted to write about here. The idea is to leave you with a marching band performance that might seem more familiar. The tune is "Magalenha" from the amazing album Brasileiro by Sergio Mendes. AndI apologize for the palm, and that you have to hear me poorly singing Portuguese gibberish, but I just love the song.
I'm doing a lot of trying to write when it comes to this blog. Lots of draft saving. Partially it's because I've not talked about my project, and I'm finding it difficult to always provide definitions when I just want to write. So here's a rundown of what I'm doing here, with explanations/translations of spanish words which are essential. I'm intentionally trying to keep it simple, but welcome questions, comments and of course, derogatory remarks.
So if all goes well, this project will earn me the title of "Dr." Sutton. Right now all I need to do is to write a paper; a paper about Uruguayan candombe drumming. But to do that, I had to come to Uruguay. The only reason I actually made it was because I received a Fulbright award. Probably the greatest academic accomplishment of my life, and in general, it's awesome.
So what is candombe? In Uruguay, it's music, dance, and a way of life. Just google it and you'll see it's all of those things and more. That however makes it difficult to discuss, which is why over the last month, I've started to shy away from using the term in favor of Llamadas. This translates to "calls," and in Uruguay refers specifically to the "call of the drums." Quite often you hear the specific rhythms refered to as Cuareim or Ansina. These are names linked to what are often referred to as the "historically black" neighborhoods of Montevideo: Barrio Sur ("Cuareim") and Palermo ("Ansina").
The drumming group that performs this music is called a cuerda, which literally means "a string" of drums. There are three sizes that form an ensemble. The smallest is the chico, and is the foundation; it's rhythm is similar regardless of neighborhood style. The largest drum, and the primary focus of this project is the piano; its rhythm identifies a neighborhood, or a particular cuerda. Then there is the repique, which is smaller than the piano and larger than the chico. This drum is primarily improvisatory, and often signals significant moments, such as the end of a performance.
Medio Mundo (photo:
Alvaro Sanjurjo Toucon)
When I started this investigation in 2009, there wasn't a lot of information available, especially on the drumming. But in 2010 all of that started to change, especially audio/video content online. I wonder now if I would have pursued this project if I had learned of candombe even a year later. A lot of my initial questions were mainly about what's on the surface of things. But I'm glad things happened the way they did, because it is amazing to experience this music on a much deeper level.
Anyway, from here on out I may be referring to these neighborhood styles, and I want any reader to have some knowledge of what they sound like. The following videos were recorded a few weeks ago, and each shows a demonstration of each historic neighborhood's base piano pattern, a performance by three drums in that style, and ending with a full cuerda performance. The demonstrations were from a presentation at a music conference I attended a few weeks ago, and the comparsa performances from the Llamadas del Patrimonio. I'm currently writing about these two events in another post, so won't say more now.
First is the rhythm of Cuareim, performed by members of C-1080. This groups name represents the street address of Medio Mundo, a historic conventillo ("housing project") in Barrio Sur, considered a birthplace of candombe.
I'm trying to present as much variety as possible, so here are two other great videos demonstrating the style. Both feature two of my favorite piano players: Diego Paredes in the first video, and Pablo "Paquito" Silva in the second.
Ansina conventillos
were demolished.
Next is the rhythm of the Ansina, performed by members of Sinfonia de Ansina. If you've watched the other videos, you'll recognize Diego Paredes on piano. Also take note of the excitement of the crowd in the last part of the video. I was filming in the Palermo neighborhood, about a block and a half from the location of the Ansina conventillos.
The second of these Ansina videos features master tamborilero José "Perico" Gularte, who is also playing with Sinfonia de Ansina in the video above.
During the presentation of rhythms at the conference, they included the Gaboto conventillo, located in the Cordón neighborhood. Aside from the conference and the parade, I haven't had an opportunity to speak with musicians from Cordón, though I hope that changes soon. Scholars such as Luis Ferreiraoften categorize this pattern as a variant of Ansina, saying it is "more rapid...more variable and not as sustained...." (Los tambores del candombe, 131). However, in Ayer y hoy: Afrouruguayos y tradición oral, Mónica Olaza includes an interview with Tomás (only first names are provided), who states: "the other important nucleus was the conventillo on the street Gaboto, with a distinct rhythm, between Ansina and Cuareim" (70). In the video from the conference, it was inspiring to see Aquiles Pintos take part in the demonstrations.
Thus concludes the lesson. And since I hear a cuerda, perfect timing.
Going to try and catch this blog up with things I've wanted to share from Montevideo. What better way to start than with music. Back on September 29th, I attended a show at Sala Zitarrosa. The theme was "candombe-fusion" from the group Tucuta Nyanzá. However, the highlight for me was the mid-show performance by Berta Pereira and Pollo Píriz. You may have to turn the volume up; I'm still getting to know my little camcorder.
Today was the first of a conference I'm attending in Montevideo The theme: "Music between Africa and the Americas." The final event this evening was a discussion of the three traditional toques (rhythms) associated with city's historic neighborhoods.
But I'm posting a video tonight, and that's all folks. It's from the conference. A few of the drummers playing were from the group in the first video I posted from Uruguay. The lowest drum of that cuerda, called piano, it takes hold. It has my heart when it speaks.
I plan to write more on the conference in the coming week, but tonight I'm tired. For those of you who watch and listen, I hope you're able to experience just a little of la fuerza del tambor.
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