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. And I apologize for the palm, and that you have to hear me poorly singing Portuguese gibberish, but I just love the song.
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