<i>Havana & Matanzas, Cuba, ca. 1957: Batá, Bembé, and Palo Songs</i> (review)
2008; University of Texas Press; Volume: 29; Issue: 1 Linguagem: Inglês
10.1353/lat.0.0006
ISSN1536-0199
Autores Tópico(s)Caribbean history, culture, and politics
ResumoReviewed by: Havana & Matanzas, Cuba, ca. 1957: Batá, Bembé, and Palo Songs Michael Marcuzzi Lydia Cabrera And Josefina Tarafa. Havana & Matanzas, Cuba, ca. 1957: Batá, Bembé, and Palo Songs. Notes by Morton Marks. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Folkways Recordings, SFW CD 40434, 2003, 28 pp., notes, photos, compact disc, 74 min. $16.98. This compilation is the third installment in a series of Afro-Cuban music that has been remastered and commercially released by Smithsonian Folkways Recordings. The original recordings, collected by ethnographer Lydia Cabrera and recorded by photographer Josefina Tarafa in the middle to late 1950s, were disseminated as part of a fourteen-LP set titled Música de los cultos africanos en Cuba (Music of the African Cults in Cuba). This most recent assemblage of tracks substantiates once again the indelible character of the original project undertaken by Cabrera and Tarafa some fifty years ago, and demonstrates the invaluable work that continues at Smithsonian Folkways. As the title suggests, this collection documents a wide-ranging set of sacred musical practices in Cuba. The first twenty of twenty-eight selections on this disc are recordings of the Lukumí music of orisha worship (related to the Yoruba of Nigeria and Benin), and demonstrate three of the ensemble types available to this religious collective in Cuba: batá, bembé, and güiro drumming, though the one example of the latter (Track 17) is hardly illustrative of the drumming style. The reference to Palo songs in the subtitle accounts for the remaining eight recordings, which are associated with the religious practices of Congolese provenience in Cuba. The annotations by Morton Marks provide helpful guideposts for any reader, contextualizing the cultural and religious significance of the selections, and include ample biographical information on both Cabrera and Tarafa. The comments on the comparative value of this series of recordings to those of Courlander, Herskovits, or Bata Ketu (Spiro and Lamson) are both timely and fitting (5–6). It is, however, Marks's work as compiler that merits particular praise here: this musical assemblage is testament to a discriminating manner and attention to musical detail. There are many musical moments herein that make for truly captivating listening. The juxtaposition of the Lukumí and Gangá ancestor-song repertoires is simply inspired (Tracks 18–20 and 23–28, respectively), and for those musicians and listeners who lament the [End Page 112] overly brisk tempi of contemporary batá drumming, note the rather quick cadences of "Okú ó Sholá Kinibá ó" (Track 3) and "Baba Fururu" (Track 4), songs that tend to take on a more contemplative rendering today. Plus ça change? And, I can only hope that the turkey buzzard theme of Tracks 21 – 22 will find mention in the annals of recorded music one day. In my opinion, Track 2 of this disc ("Idé werewere ni'ta Oshún idé wererwere") provides a particularly effective example of the uniqueness of this entire collection. This selection is in compound, duple meter, conventionally notated in either or , depending on one's penchant for notating the clave pattern in two measures or one.1 Yet, what is particular arresting in this recording is the way in which the normative isochronic subdivision of the beat (1:1:1) shifts along a continuum of internal ratios, most often approximating 3:1:2 (though at times approaching 2:1:1).2 For those concerned with the subtle art of creating a groove, or performing "in the cracks" of the idealized grid of metered notation, this track should add considerably to any discussion on the matter. The purposeful "swing" of this track is evidence of the ineffable quality of batá drumming to which Amira and Cornelius refer (1992, 45, 47n4). This track also exhibits numerous "deviations" from any standard performance practice — some would call them outright gaffes. Thankfully, however, Marks sees fit to include this track in spite of such anomalies. This example presents so many instances of rhythmic disparity with the clave timeline (2 + 3 + 2 + 2 + 3) — instant death for Cuban musicians —that the track takes on an almost comical quality. The near-heroic efforts on the part of the drummers and a few savvy chorus members to keep this performance on the rails are simply...
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