Showing posts with label Ethnomusicology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ethnomusicology. Show all posts

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Merengue: Dominican Music and Dominican Identity


After several months into my merengue 'phase,' I've finally read Paul Austerlitz's book on the merengue. I was a little disappointed by the text's brevity (under 200 pages), but it's a useful introduction to a complex music genre with an extensive history. As a 'national' music of the Dominican Republic that reflects African and European influences, one could research endlessly the various forms of merengue, how it relates to Dominican ideas of race, class, national identity, influences from neighboring Haiti, or the broader Caribbean world, but Austerlitz's book functions as an introductory text that barely scratches the surface. He fortunately does examine how the Trujillato exploited the merengue as propaganda and as part of a nationalistic project, as well as the various phases and influences on merengue music (US jazz during the occupation from 1916-1924, rock and salsa on pop merengue of the 1960s-present, the 19th century influences of contredanse, Afro-Dominican palo drumming and ritual music, the influences of Haitian and Afro-Caribbean immigrants, the increasingly important role of accordion in saxophone in early merengue tipico of the Cibao during the late 19th century and early 20th century, etc). 


Austerlitz also provides a very brief overview of Dominican history, from colonial Spanish Santo Domingo, the importance of slavery and racial mixing, the caudillos of the 19th century (Santana, Baez, Heureaux, Arias), northern imperialism (from the US, Germany, Spain), the preeminence of the Cibao as the greatest region of the country due to it possessing a larger 'white' population, Trujillo's rise to power (1930-1961), political centralization, cult of personality, and the transnational communities of merengue that linked Latinos in New York with developments in music and politics in the DR, etc. We learn that merengue of the Cibao, looked down upon by Dominican elites, became a national 'music' through Trujillo and his brother, who both patronized musicians (such as Luis Alberti, Lora, Trio Reynoso, Antonio Morel) and controlled the music industry until the 1960s, when rock influences and pro-democratic merengue (best represented by Johnny Ventura) paved the way for a 'freer' society) paved the way for true 'pop' music and commercialization unhindered by a dictator's family monopoly of the nation's industries. 


Of course, Austerlitz also clearly and expertly demonstrates how all the contradictions of Trujillo's life and regime were emblematic of the Dominican nation, such as conflicted racial identity that denied the omnipresent Afro-Dominican and Afro-Caribbean influences from within and externally, from Haiti, the obvious African influences in Dominican religious practices and music, including all forms of merengue, anti-Vodou laws passed under Trujillo while he himself continued to observe them, and massacres of Haitians in 1937 while Trujillo and many Afro-Dominicans have Haitian ancestry. In addition, Trujillo himself bridged the divide between merengue tipico and orchestrated merengue that reflected stronger US jazz influences and appealed to different classes of Dominican society because of his relationships and patronage (or that of his brother, Petan) of musicians such as Luis Alberti, Joseito Mateo, Trio Reynoso, and others who composed Trujilloist merengues that celebrated el Jefe. Thus, while Trujillo and even some merengueros denied the African influences on merengue, Vodou and Afro-Dominican musical practices and the Afro-Caribbean cinquillo and instrumentation were always part of the merengue tradition, which was a bridge between secular and ritual music of the Afro-Catholic countryside and barrios. Joseito Mateo, Johnny Ventura, and others, such as Guandulito, sang songs that recalled that African influence (examples would be "Negrito del Batey" and other songs that hinted at Vodou practices, black sugarcane workers in the batey, and regional variations of merengue, such as pale echao. 


While also receiving influences from salsa, Haitian music (Wilfrido Vargas is great example, or Johnny Ventura absorbing rock and US music dance and performance styles, or covering Haitian songs like "Bobine"), and changing over time (dropping accordions in pop merengue and using the saxophone to replace that sound completely, while also speeding up the temple, as in this example), merengue went from a genre that in the 19th century was heard in different Caribbean locales (Puerto Rico, Haiti, DR, Venezuela, Colombia) to becoming a unique international symbol of the Dominican Republic. The genre's simple partner dance, double entendres ("El Jarro Pichao" is one great song exemplifying that trend, here recorded by Angel Viloria, a Dominican merenguero who combined the orchestrated merengue sounds of Alberti with the tipico sound of the Cibao in Nueva York while also becoming extremely popular and influential in Haitian music with his jaleos), light-hearted fun, and new sound became THE popular Latin dance music for Latinos in New York, Puerto Ricans, and throughout the Americas (Austerlitz quotes a Puerto Rican who claimed the merengue as a "Puerto Rican" thing because of its popularity in the island and NYC, especially after the decline of salsa. In addition, the growth of the Dominican diaspora after the fall of Trujillo (particularly in New York) led to a rise in merengue groups in the US as well as the merengue as a 'national' music that Dominican-Americans listened to as an expression of a specifically Dominican culture. 


Where I wish Austerlitz could have gone further in the story of Dominican music is more extensive coverage of bachata, which appears to me to be a more lower-class music that grew after the popularity of Cuban bolero in the DR. His commentary on Juan Luis Guerra and recent developments in merengue are far less interesting to me personally than, say, the early origins of merengue (which are never adequately addressed, and little to nothing is said about Juan Bautista Alfonseca except that "Juana Quilina" is attributed to him) or how merengue was both shaped by and shaped Haitian music. Furthermore, anyone seeking extensive analysis of Haitian-Dominican relations, or detailed examination of the question of race in Dominican intellectual and social history would be better off reading Silvio Torres-Saillant. Furthermore, Austerlitz does not go into the specifics of Afro-Dominican ritual drumming or music, which I suppose one could counteract with Afro Pop's special on the subject, but is still not quite the same as an academic text covering such material. Perhaps my disappointment is really due to Austerlitz not writing about the entirety of Dominican popular music, which Gage Averill did so admirably in the 1990s. 


In spite of its flaws and shortcomings as an introductory text meant to be accessible for mainstream audiences, Austerlitz wrote an entertaining and interesting overview of an important Afro-Caribbean musical genre that I have for so long overlooked. This book is more than worth one's time for a useful and quick read on merengue and how it relates to Dominican identity. 

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

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.