Reading Averill's A Day For the Hunter, A Day For the Prey was both informative, interesting, entertaining, and useful for Haitian music enthusiasts. As a novice to the field of Caribbean music and much ethnomusicology, it was an excellent introduction to the complex subject of 20th century Haitian music as it pertains to history and social relations. The only notable, recurring flaw was the plethora of typos, and perhaps how little the book has to say about pre-20th century Haitian music (despite a good introduction to the subject, the book does not delve deeper into the origins of Haitian meringue or other genres as much as I would like. In Averill's defense, however, that was not the purpose of his book, so those seeking an exhaustive text on the subject of the entirety of Haitian music should supplement this text with Largey's work on Haitian mizik savant or salon/art music, and perhaps read some of Creolizing The Contradance in the Caribbean.
The ultimate strength of Averill's book is to demonstrate how central music, particularly popular music, was in social conflict, class relations, and the production of ideological and political trends in Haitian history, from the early 20th century's period of US Occupation to the rise and fall(s) of Aristide. Various intellectual trends can be clearly revealed to be part of broader ideological shifts in Haitian consciousness, such as indigenism, negritude/noirisme, Duvalierism, populist democratic movements, and militarism. Indeed, from the colonial era to the 21st century, Haitian music has been central in military institutions (the fanfa of the Haitian military helped spread creolized forms of the European contredanse that later birthed the Haitian meringue, as well as shape popular musical practices, such as the ochan and koudjay in Haitian society). In addition, the military, as well as elites, have endeavored to use music to legitimize their rule or at the very least, draw crowds, such as in the koudjay, where elites paid musicians to play in public spaces for them.
Another example of how essential music is to Haitian society would lay in Carnival, a special time where the urban poor and middle-classes could seize the streets, issue a pwen against elites, celebrate themselves, and shape decisions made political and military circles (For instance, Baby Doc chose to leave Haiti in 1986 before Carnival, where more bloodshed would have likely occurred as the anti-Duvalierists would have seized the street, or how Carnival allowed a space for critiques of Baby Doc's wife, and thereby, undermine his regime and legitimacy). The importance of music in Afro-derived Haitian practices, such as Vodou and rara, also shaped Haitian political and intellectual discourse as the indigenist and noirist schools espoused Vodou and Haitian peasant forms as a way of celebrating a Haitian identity and/or championing 'black power,' a product of the US Occupation's racism, the Haitian left (represented by writers and activists, such as Jacques Roumain), the writings of Jean-Price Mars, Haitian class/color dynamics. This of course, aided in the folkloric movement where groups like Jazz des Jeunes (which became a favored band to represent Haiti identity abroad, as well as the most talked about group in Haiti for some time in the 1940s and 1950s, before the rise kompa) and singers such as Candio and Lumane Casimir became famous during and after the US Occupation's end.
The use of Haitian Vodou and rara would also shape the democratization movement in the 1970s thru the 1980s, as rara influenced the mizik raisin movement and artists and cultural troupes, including Boukman Eksperyans, the twoubadou tradition (itself a product of Cuban son influences brought back by migrant workers) and singers like Manno Charlemagne incorporating Vodou allusions in their songs while challenging Baby Doc and the military, and last but certainly not least, the pro-Lavalas movement. The name was taken from a song by a peasant organization, and Aristide himself was a guitarist and songwriter who used Vodou references that appealed to the Catholic and Vodou majority of Haiti's poor. By the way, one must note how Vodou and peasant cultural practices were central to the two nationalist movements in Haiti, forming a Haitian national identity and resistance to the US and foreign imperialism, and sustaining the democratic wave from the 1980s to the present.
One thing I particularly enjoyed was learning about how close kompa was to the rise of Papa Doc and that of his successor, Baby Doc. Early kompa, such as Nemours Jean-Baptiste and Webert Sicot, for instance, also recorded an ochan (or dedicated Carnival pieces) to Duvalier, celebrating his early regime, thereby legitimizing him with their immense appeal as commercial musicians (here are some examples, from Jean-Baptiste). Since this is the first I have read of how kompa's emergence in the second half of the 1950s after the Vodou-jazz phase of artists such as the orchestra of Issa El Saieh or Jazz des Jeunes, kompa direct, 'created' by Nemours Jean-Baptiste and the first hugely commercial music of Haiti (which reached the countryside through the proliferation of radio technology and national radio stations, the very same stations that had previously celebrated the music of Jazz des Jeunes), kompa direct did emerge in the context of the fall of Magloire and the rise of Duvalier, with mostly middle-class musicians such as Jean-Baptiste being a core part of the expansion. Similarly, the mini-jazz phase of kompa music celebrated middle-class lifestyles, exemplifying how the rise of Duvalier was tied to (at least some) middle-class support since the middle-classes and other non-elite actors were allowed some direct participation in the kleptocracy. Some kompa bands would retain their stain of Duvalierism long after breaking away from participating in the pro-Duvalier Carnival celebrations, or receiving money (Bossa Combo being one example of a band with Baby Doc's patronage).
Anyway, I'll stop rambling about the many positives of this book and how insightful of an analysis it is. In the end, the book is a testament to the importance of music as a product and influence in history, whether on the side of elites or the popular struggles. In addition, Averill goes to greath lengths to illustrate how important cultural creolization, the diaspora, and international influences were/are in Haiti, from Cuban son and mambo to Dominican merengue and US hip-hop. Furthermore, there are numerous excerpts from songs that buttress Averill's arguments, and shed light on the Sicot-Jean-Baptiste rivalry, and the problems of commercial music in Haiti (ranging from lack of studios and the necessary technology and funds in Haiti, the pattern of musicians blowing all their money away quickly, musicians only getting paid for recording in the studio and getting no royalties, numerous cases of song theft, etc.). In short, run to read this book for an informative read on the relationship between music and power in a Caribbean context.
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