Rubén

One of the earliest examples of recorded merengue from the Dominican Republic, "Rubén" does sound like it is influenced by danzón. A chapter in Creolizing Contradance in the Caribbean suggests that modern Dominican merengue as we known it was influenced by the danzón-like music of the same name in 19th century Puerto Rico and Cuba but gradually adopted new rhythmic, lyrical, and aesthetic features in the Cibao region. Thus, the merengue as we know it was born in the late 19th century. This recording, which features some merengue-like features, also points do the earlier influence of creolized contradance. In that regard, it almost kinda sounds like Haitian méringue.

Africa Habla

Interesting Cuban music from a legendary charanga bandleader.

Ned Sublette's Cuba and Its Music: From the First Drums to the Mambo

I finally finished Ned Sublette's Cuba and Its Music: From the First Drums to the Mambo and am quite impressed. Though clearly not written in an academic style, Sublette clearly possesses an erudite knowledge of Cuban musical history as well as first-hand experience of various Cuban genres. Occasionally Sublette makes some errors (such as referring to the Hausa people of West Africa as nomadic or semi-nomadic, like the Fulani, and suggesting a highly unlikely Chinese derivation of Yoruba divination), but his massive tome (which takes one from ancient Cadiz and the Mediterranean world to the 1950s) is accessible, humorous, informal, and an excellent overview of the various ways African and European creolization in the Caribbean developed through music.

He demonstrates how  various West and Central African religious and musical concepts fused with European traditions to give us new, beautiful creole music: danza, danzon, son, rumba, mambo, charangas francesas, bolero, guajiro, and salsa. The 'zarabanda' and the influence of West and Central African music on the European classical tradition was also quite interesting, as well as African influences on Iberian music before and during the European conquest of the Americas. In addition, Sublette clearly and expertly explains how Yoruba, Dahomeyan, Kongo, and Abakua religious traditions (such as Santeria), sacred music, instrumentation, and secret societies influenced Afro-Cuban culture and shaped Cuban culture overall for the last 500 years, finding its way into more European-derived traditions. Thus, one can clearly see how African rhythms and styles entered the Cuban musical landscape, giving us the tumbador, bongo, marimbula, African rhythmic approaches to playing the tres and European instruments like the guitar, horns, etc. African musical aesthetics of blending wood and metal in percussion found its way into Cuba, as well as gendered pairing of percussion and the Kongo baile yuka, the palero tradition, Lucumi (Yoruba) bata drumming, etc.

Furthermore, Sublette provides the reader with enough context and detail to understand what's going on in Cuba and its environs during this time. Clearly, one cannot study Cuban music in isolation, because it's in a state of constant communication with Mexico, the United States (especially New York and New Orleans), Puerto Rico, Haiti, France, Colombia and elsewhere. So Cuban society, political developments, changes in recording technology, the Cuban diaspora in Mexico and the US, the Cuban struggle for independence, and Cuba under US imperialism are all inextricably linked to the brilliant music of Cuba. Slavery, naturally, occupies a key role as well as the class and racial dynamics of Cuban society from the colonial era to the 20th century.

My only wish is that the second part of this book could finally come out so I can read Sublette's take on the latter part of the 1950s, the Cuban Revolution, Bebo Valdes, Celia Cruz, and the rise of salsa. If you are interested in learning more about Cuban music, this book is one of the best introductory texts. Enjoy!

Creolizing Contradance in the Caribbean

Finally got around to reading Creolizing Contradance in the Caribbean and I found it quite informative. As someone 'new' to the genres of Puerto Rican danza and merengue, this accessible but academic text full of essays by various scholars (including Largey on the Haitian contradance and meringue/mereng) gives a full history and background to the development of creolized forms of European dance and instrumentation that would later give birth to merengue, danza, and other genres of Caribbean music. Alas, the search for the origins of the merengue and Haitian meringue remain elusive, but this book is a step int he right direction to clarifying the origins of both genres, as well as the Puerto Rican danza.

The book is also a powerful reminder of the importance of music and dance in creolization and Caribbean history. For instance, from the humble origins of the contradance in rural England to courtly to ritualized dance of French aristocrats (where its prestige would spread throughout Europe and the Americas) symbolized the growth of the bourgeoisie in western Europe, the rise of the waltz and independent, intimate partner dance (the triumph of individualism over the collective-oriented dances of pre-capitalist Europe), and its spread to whites, people of color, and slaves in the colonial Caribbean. Once established in colonial societies in the Caribbean, whites and people of African descent learned the dances that were 'hot' in Europe, followed musical developments (as well as receiving musical training, slaves who fused contradance and quadrille with 'neo-African' dances, drums, and characteristic rhythms, such as the cinquillo, tresillo, amphibrachs, etc., like the tumba francesa of eastern Cuba, transformed European dances into something else, with more swaying of the hips and picking up close partner dance.)

As one would expect, the focus of the book is centered on the Spanish Caribbean, where creolization in music occurred sooner, focusing on Cuban Afro-Caribbeanized forms of contradanza, particularly the Habanera rhythm that spread across the world from its Cuban origins in the 1840s and 1850s. In addition, this text is useful for endeavoring to trace the origins of the merengue, which apparently first appeared as a type of dance or style based on the Cuban contradance in Cuba. It also appeared in Puerto Rico in the 1840s (where it was banned in 1849 by the Spanish governor for promoting indecency and immoral dancing!), but the merengue of Puerto Rico may not have anything in common with the Cuban dance of the same name. In addition, Puerto Rican danza lived longer than Cuban danza and danzon, giving us "La Borinquena" and numerous compositions by formally trained pianists, such as Juan Morel Campos and Manuel Gregorio Tavarez, developing in its own evolutionary path away from Cuban creole/Afro-Caribbean music forms. One difference, however, between Cuba and Puerto Rico in the 19th century, is that more Afro-Cuban musicians and composers seemed to have played a role in Cuban danza and danzon, while Puerto Rico reflected migration patterns from colonial Venezuelan (elites fleeing Bolivar's revolutionary movement) and danza remained more connected to elite audiences and urban Puerto Ricans, particularly in Ponce and San Juan (although the occasional jibaro musician would play the stately, elegant danza).

Moving on, the 'merengue' of 19th century Puerto Rican danza seems to have spread to the Dominican Republic, where 'merengue' did not connote the Cibao region music of rustic, accordion-led bands. Indeed, I now know I have a lot of 'salon merengues' to listen to from Dominican composers who closely followed Puerto Rican danza music, especially Juan Morel Campos. However, the music we now call merengue cibaeno did materialize in the late 19th century, and was fused with the Puerto Rican-styled danza in the early 20th century to express a national identity through music. But the salon merengue, in its early history, was quite different from the music we recognize now as Dominican merengue. On Haitian influences in Dominican music, beyond the carabine dance brought by Haitian solders under Dessalines, the Haitian mereng is not declared to have an earlier origin, probably because, as Largey states, there's no evidence for the Haitian 'meringue' before the second half of the 19th century.

As for the Haitian meringue, Largey's chapter is very useful for elucidating the importance of creolized European dances in Saint Domingue and Haiti. The Haitian contredanse, remains present in folkloric troupes, despite the overwhelming focus (from Haitian composers eager to find something expressing kinship with Haitian peasantry and the African origins of the Haitian people) on 'neo-African' and Vodou dances and music, though one can hear contredanse recordings by some 1950s Haitians artists. Furthermore, Largey calls into question Jean Fouchard's claims about the meringue as central to Haitian musical identity (although Largey is receptive to the idea of a significant carabine influence from military regimental bands from the era of Dessalines and the first half of the 19th century in military and political circles), preferring to see examples of meringue, like "Choucoune," as an example of elite Haitians trying to connect with the lower classes and cultivate a national identity. Anywho, it is interesting to read Ludovic Lamothe basically say that the Haitian meringue owes more to Cuban Habanera and Puerto Rican danza music than any earlier Haitian music, despite the appeaerance of cinquillo or quintolet throughout Afro-Haitian music.

Undoubtedly, Largey's chapter on Haitian contredanse and meringue stood out, as well as the chapter on the Puerto Rican danza. I am not too informed on Haitian music history, but Largey's short chapter illustrates how Haitian music was always about attempting to develop a national identity that transcended class and color divisions (indeed, Largey claims that balls hosted by Haitian mulatto presidents, such as Petion and Boyer, were 'color-segregated' where only elite blacks of high military rank were welcome, so music was always contentious. In fact, the Haitian military bands, fanfares, such as the Fanfare du Palais National (led by Occide Jeanty, a composer and formally trained in Paris), were hired to promote politicians or military leaders, while also playing for elite and subaltern audiences.

Given the diverse audiences of these fanfares, all segments of Haitian society would have been exposed to the meringue and martial music at some point (at least in the towns and cities), thereby cultivating a national identity through music. The private salons, on the other hand, hosted pianists playing the stately meringue lente, slow meringues popular with elite audiences, while the popular classes supposedly preferred fast-tempo meringues and Carnival music (Lamothe's "Nibo" would be one example of a Carnival hit and "La Dangereuse" a meringue lente). Unfortunately, the exact origins of the Haitian mereng remain elusive, and the only carabine dance I found online was that of Dominican merengue groups, not exactly what I'm looking for.