Creole Soul: Zydeco Lives
2024; University of Illinois Press; Volume: 137; Issue: 544 Linguagem: Inglês
10.5406/15351882.137.544.20
ISSN1535-1882
Autores Tópico(s)Cuban History and Society
ResumoMost previous book-length studies of zydeco have focused mainly on Southwest Louisiana. It is, after all, the place where Black Creole musicians initially syncretized elements of Afro-Caribbean polyrhythms, Cajun French repertoire, and early blues into their own blend of folk music, an accordion-based form first commonly called la-la. In particular, Louisiana-based authors—such as Michael Tisserand in The Kingdom of Zydeco (1998) and Ben Sandmel in Zydeco! (1999)—have established how that legacy germinated, evolved, and has continued to thrive there. On the other hand, in Texas Zydeco (2006), this reviewer has documented how certain essential elements of modern zydeco came into being in nearby Southeast Texas, where the vibrant music flourishes today. In short, earlier researchers have generally concentrated their efforts on either the east or the west side of the Sabine River, a geopolitical state line but not necessarily a cultural boundary. However, with the publication of Creole Soul: Zydeco Lives, for the first time, a single tome offers a balanced, unified, and richly illustrated vision of that entire upper Gulf Coast region where this dynamic dance-centric music originated, morphed, and proliferates to date.A small team of collaborators provides this larger frame of reference, and it is perhaps significant that none of them reside down south in zydeco country. The author, the late professor of folklore Burt Feintuch (1949–2018), was a longtime resident of New Hampshire, as is the photographer, Gary Samson. Their colleague Jeannie Banks Thomas, the traveling companion and editor who fulfilled Feintuch's request to "finish my book" (p. viii), is based at Utah State University. As Thomas explains in her prefatory essay, Feintuch readily identified himself as "a cultural outsider" who endeavored, via interviews, simply "to capture the words of Texas musicians along with Louisiana musicians" (p. vii). Informed by fieldwork in both states, as well as by scholarship of previous publications, Feintuch achieves an important breakthrough in perspective, facilitating a more comprehensive view of contemporary zydeco reality.This beautifully designed, large-format book is structured around 11 in-depth interviews, each preceded by an insightful personal essay. Corresponding with its bistate focus, the main text divides into two roughly equal parts: "Texas" and "Louisiana." The former features conversations with the musicians Ed Poullard, Step Rideau, Brian Jack, Jerome Batiste, and Ruben Moreno. The latter presents interviews with Lawrence "Black" Ardoin, Leroy Thomas, Dwayne Dopsie, Sean Ardoin, Corey Ledet, and Nathan Williams, Jr. Together, they make up a diverse group of zydeco artists of different ages, stylistic preferences, educational backgrounds, and (in the case of Moreno, who identifies as Chicano-Creole) ethnic heritage—but not, as Thomas ruefully notes, gender (for Feintuch did not interview any female players in this male-dominated field).One of the main themes that emerges is the transmission of instrumental skills and traditional repertoire via informal, mentor-apprentice relationships within tight-knit communities. Almost every musician speaks of the key role of some older member of the family or neighbor in honing his own appreciation, desire, and ability to play. Many of them say they first made music with their fathers. In fact, several of them are descendants of prominent figures in zydeco history—none more so than Lawrence "Black" Ardoin, who traces his ancestry beyond his father, the acclaimed folk musician Alphonse "Bois Sec" Ardoin (1915–2007), all the way back to the seminal Black Creole accordionist and vocalist Amédé Ardoin (1898–1942). Moreover, that lineage also extends forward to Lawrence's son Sean, a progressive zydeco bandleader and the subject of a subsequent interview by Feintuch. The younger Ardoin notably defines his own style of music as "alternative Creole" (p. 203), reflecting another theme of the book: the intergenerational tension between rigid traditionalism and expansive innovation in how this music is understood and interpreted.Interspersed among the text are 57 full-page color photographs that splendidly supplement the writing. Samson's images vividly show zydeco musicians and their fans in a variety of settings—from stages and dance floors in downhome bars, urban restaurants, festivals, and church halls to trail rides (on horseback), rodeo arenas, accordion shops, living rooms, porches, yards and grave sites. As Feintuch asserts: "When it's at home, in Texas or Louisiana, zydeco is a music that represents community, an affirmation of shared identity" (p. 101). The accompanying visual documentation brilliantly underscores that point.As many people familiar with zydeco culture discover, among Black Creoles of the Gulf Coast the word "zydeco" functions as both a noun (referencing the music genre or an event where it is performed) as well as a verb (meaning to dance and pass a good time). Whether by authorial intention or not, the last word in the subtitle of this important book may be read in a similarly multivalent way. For while Feintuch's probing interviews focus on 11 individual lives, they collectively make the case that this music—for some, the sonic manifestation of joie de vivre—indeed lives.
Referência(s)