Bam pam san douce

A classic mereng recorded by Dodof Legros. Trying to find the origins of this song is difficult, but a song of the same name was published by Fernand Frangeul. If so, this means the song probably dates back to the early 1900s. Did Legros sing an altered or modernized arrangement of it? All we learn from Constantin Dumerve is that the piece was a popular tune.

Jean Fouchard and the Meringue

Fernand Frangeul from Histoire de la musique en Haïti by Constantin Dumervé

Jean Fouchard's La méringue, danse nationale d'Haïti is another one of his interesting and infuriating works on Haitian history and culture. In this work, Fouchard focuses on the méringue as a national dance intimately linked to the history and culture of Haiti since the colonial period. Tracing its development from the chica, calenda, and the fusion of sorts that occurred between the chica of African origin (probably of Central African provenance) and the menuet (and contredanse), the early antecedent of the méringue, the carabinier, was likely born by the late 18th century. Surely, the carabinier was around before its earliest written attestation in 1824. Furthermore, Fouchard's deconstruction of the legendary story of the carabinier's creation during the 1805 siege of Santo Domingo is quite persuasive. The campaign was brief and while that particular mistress of the Emperor was likely present for the campaign, other sources point to the popular dance resembling the contredanse already popular in the balls attended by Dessalines in 1805. In other words, Dessalines, an avid dancer and man with many mistresses in various towns across the nation, was indeed fond of the carabinier. But the carabinier appears to have already been in existence before the 1805 campaign and was, based on descriptions of its rhythm and movement, a creolized descendant of the chica with European menuet or contredanse influences. The voluptuous, sensuous chica and its fusion with dances and instruments of European origin mastered by some slaves and free people of color were popular, alongside with the sacred and profane Vodou and other forms of African dance. 

Thus establishing the origin of the earliest méringue by the end of the colonial era, Fouchard posits that the meringue developed from the carabinier Fouchard associates the early carabinier with the bal or balanced rhythmic version particularly popular with Henri Christophe's court and the carnaval version that was used by the carnaval bands, for coundialle, and the type of music commonly heard in the streets. Rejecting theories of a significant Spanish influence, at least before the 1920s with the invasion of jazz, Cuban music, and Dominican merengue, Fouchard more reasonably asserts a Haitian origin of the Dominican merengue. Indeed, citing Dominican sources, which trace the origin of their merengue to the 1820s, and appearing as merengue after 1844, Fouchard believes the Haitian carabinier was the basis for the méringue and merengue. Like the later méringue of Haiti, carabinier was also associated with popular songs and satires lampooning politicians, mistresses of powerful politicians, or others. Fouchard cites a few examples of these poking fun at the Haitian president in 1844 as well as others poking fun at various late 19th century or early 20th century presidents. In addition, some carabinier-méringue may have melodies that originally developed from French berceuses that possibly traveled to Cuba and Louisiana with the exodus of Saint Dominguans during the Haitian Revolution. Fouchard mentions a few interesting examples of this that traveled to Cuba with Saint Dominguans then later returned to Haiti.

By the 1840s, Haitian meringue and merengue were taking form. In Haiti, carabinier was still used to describe the dance in the 1860s by Ducas Hyppolite and Spencer St. John. Nonetheless, Fouchard postulates that the introduction of new instruments by the 1840s and the suspicion around the word carabinier after Izidor Gabriel's conspiracy favored the use of the word meringue. The clarinet especially became popular for bands playing meringue music. Indeed, an early example of a Haitian composition using the word meringue is a song composed by Occide Jeanty's father, Occilius, in 1860. As further evidence against the Dominican origin of the Haitian meringue is the Dominican versions's absence in the list of Dominican influences Ducas Hyppolite encountered in 1863 at Mirebalais. If the Dominican version was the origin of the Haitian meringue, why was it not present near the Haitian border in the 1860s? The Spanish influences, particularly from danza or the habanera, appear to actually have been limited to some of the salon pianists like Ludovic Lamothe, and not representative of the majority of popular meringues such as "Nibo" or the music of Candio. 

Therefore, the Haitian meringue was simply a modified version of the old carabinier dance already so popular since the end of the colonial period in Haiti. Its name, according to Fouchard, is not of French origin but may have derived from the mouringue dance of the Bara of Madagascar. Sadly, the evidence for this is not as strong as Fouchard wants us to believe, though there were enslaved Africans from Mozambique and Madagascar in Saint Domingue. Nonetheless, it is certainly possible that the name for the dance comes from Africa while its actual development was a local creation in Saint Domingue and early Haiti. The fact that by the mid-1800s a dance called meringue or merengue was found in Haiti, Cuba, the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico cannot be a coincidence. The name may indeed derive from the accepted French source, but became the name for similar dances based on the creolized contredanse that was already present around the Caribbean. 

The rest of Fouchard's observations on Haitian music are interesting yet perhaps limited by his nationalist bias. In his desire to construct Haitian music's legitimacy on the foundation of tradition, he sees the jazz, Cuban, and compas as deviations, especially the first two whose consumption spread in Haiti at the same time as the US Occupation and Jean Price-Mars's indigenism. That said, there is a kind of irony to this moment where just as some Haitians were looking to Vodou, folklore and what was considered traditionally Haitian, the youth were drawn to jazz, Cuban styles, and the spread of radio and recorded music favored this. The meringue, of course, stayed relevant throughout Haitian history. Indeed, even our elites with their bovarysme collectif still preserved it as the closer of concerts and dances while the masses never forgot it. Indeed, even the contredanse and carabinier are remembered in the countryside dances. Ultimately, our "national dance" is closely linked to the history of our people, but has not been static. One wishes Fouchard had been able to explore more deeply the various incarnations of the meringue since the mid-19th century until the 1970s, exploring how its popular and elite manifestations diverged and their relationship with other forms of dance in Haiti. 

Duroseau Meringues

Some catchy classics of Haitian music recorded in the 1950s. The musical Duroseau family surprised us with one very well known Haitian standard.

Jazz des Jeunes

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Love the rhythms in the music of Jazz des Jeunes. Haitian music of the pre-compas era was quite something.

Adeline

"Adeline" is a classic méringue by François Alexis Guignard, the leader of Jazz Guignard in the 1930s. Named for his daughter, the song remained in the repertoire of Haitian dance bands for decades after the heyday of Jazz Guignard. Through Guignard's two sons, Felix and Edner, his influence on Haitian popular music persisted through groups such as Jazz des Jeunes and Hotel El Rancho's band. This version of "Adeline" by Webert Sicot, adds a extra layer of sound through two saxophones playing with and against each other, adding some jazz phrasings here and there. Quite beautiful. 

La Délaissée et ses soupirs

Haitian students from a Cap-Haitien school of music performing a composition by Occide Jeanty, La Délaissée et ses soupirs. Due to Occide Jeanty's significance in the larger history of Haitian music, it's a shame more of his works are not available online, particularly the méringue.

Douze-et-Demi

Eructation pénible

du saxophone

qui crache

dans le soir lourd

des notes discordantes.

Dans la salle basse,

où flotte,

dense, 

un parfum de luxure

les couples

se trémoussant

au rhythme de la méringue

exhalent l'âcre odeur

de bêtes en rut. 

Et dans le coin ombreux

qu'illumine

son sourire de noire, 

je tâche d'étouffer

le spleen

que me tue.

The above poem, by Daniel Heurtelou, was published in La Revue Indigène. Unsurprisingly, the indigenist publication welcomed contributions such as the above, which immersed themselves in the folkloric and cultural practices of the masses. It is also a priceless account of the douze et demi balls popular among the working-class quarters of Port-au-Prince since the late 19th century. In J. Michael Dash's Literature and Ideology in Haiti, 1915–1961, he translates a section of the poem and highlights the eroticism and debauchery of it. The nightclub scene, melancholy, and undeniable sexual character of the the scene exemplify this. However, the poem is also a useful description, from a presumably bourgeois poet's perspective, of popular urban music of the 1920s. The use of saxophone, references to the meringue, discordant notes, and heavy odor of the venue are striking visual cues to the douze et demi balls of the era. 

According to Georges Corvington, the douze et demi balls arose in the second half of the 19th century. Because the cost of admission was douze et demi, they received said name. The earliest ones mentioned began with Carnival bandleaders who formed more permanent groups that performed regularly on Saturday evenings in Bel-Air and other neighborhoods. Corvington identified one of these pioneer Carnival bandleaders as Destiné of Bel-Air. In the 19th century, the previous instrumentation of these bands usually contained violin, clarinet, tambourines, and triangle. Presumably, other instruments associated with Carnival bands or parades could also be heard, such as banjo, guitar, mandolin, accordion, or  The favored dance was the "bambocha," noted by Corvington to be a relation to the meringue. However, since Carnival music in Bel-Air and other non-elite areas of the city were more likely to incorporate African traditions and elements of Haitian music, it is probable that these douze et demi orchestras did, at first glance, come across as "rough" or "discordant" compared to the elite balls, salons, and masquerades. 

Daniel Heurtelou

Intriguingly, Heurtelou's poem indicates the use of saxophone in these bands by the 1920s, although they were still performing meringues (perhaps more akin to the koudyay Carnival styles). New instruments that were also used in bands performing Cuban music or American jazz may even indicate the intrusion of said styles in the douze et demi bands. With the growth of Port-au-Prince during this time of US Occupation and further centralization, packed dancehalls providing entertainment for the urban lower classes would have been necessary. Furthermore, Haitian poets making literary use of this development perhaps mirrors that of African American poetic incorporation of blues and jazz elements. This cheap entertainment's appeal to hide or assuage the melancholy of the narrator may speak to his alienation under US Occupation, or, perhaps, the effects of US capitalist penetration into Haitian society. In short, much could be made of the use of free verse, the origins of the narrator's melancholy, and transformations in urban music during this era. 

Quinze jours au Cap-Haitien

One of the interesting Haitian salon meringue compositions from the early 20th century, Quinze jours au Cap-Haitien by François Manigat sounds somewhat like a rag. Information about Manigat is scarce, but the introduction of the piece does suggest a ragtime influence. This indicates the degree to which Haitian musicians were following US music. 

Gallop

The Duroseau family's approach to Haitian mereng was of the sautant variation. Like Théramène Ménès, the Duroseaus saw the meringue as similar to the two-step and notation in 2/4. If there really were 3 different types of meringue (lente, "lively" and carnavalesque), the meringues recorded by Fabre Duroseau fall in the lively camp. This, in turn, means they were likely intended for dancing. They also sound somewhat like ragtime, which may not entirely be a coincidence as some Haitians were inspired by African American music. Ford Dabney, a black American composer who lived in Haiti for a few years in the beginning of the 20th century, is an example of the interest Haitians held in ragtime. Additional highlights from Haitian Piano include "Jeannette" and "Un Soir #2." The latter is more of a meringue lente with the typical grace and elegance of the genre. Some hints of jazz and ragtime can be heard. 

Meringue Frangeul

Alberto Mesirca playing a meringue arranged by Frantz Casseus. Based on the title, "Meringue Frangeul," it is almost certainly a composition by Fernand Frangeul or at least inspired by him. Frangeul was a major figure in Haitian music publishing of the early 20th century. According to Constantin Dumerve, Frangeul often put popular meringues he heard in Port-au-Prince to sheet music. Thus, many of his songs may be illustrative of popular taste, not just bourgeois audiences for salon music. Meringues published by Frangeul include a number of tunes famously recorded by Haitian orchestras in the 1940s and 1950s. "Patience, ma fille" and "Banm Pam San Dous" may be the best known.

Les Zizipans

A mereng composed by the head of the Musique du Palais, Occide Jeanty. According to Corvington's history of Port-au-Prince, Zizipans was the Carnival band of Georges, roi du Oual-Ouadi, who came to Port-au-Prince from the countryside at some point in the late 19th century. Thus, the song may represent how carnival musicians in the late 19th century sounded, even if the Musique du Palais was a military band. Indeed, the song does sound sound something like a Carnival band marching through the streets.

Irène

Merry Christmas! Today, I am enjoying jazz and a random assortment of music. Today's gem is an old meringue, "Irène," performed by the Montreal-based band, Makaya. Irène the name of my great-grandmother, also has sentimental value to me, but I generally love older styles of Caribbean and Latin music, especially styles with a hint of jazz. The original can be found on Youtube or Spotify, as part of the Sans Parole volume of Haitian Belle Epoque music, consisting of meringues, big band, and jazz sounds.

Dodo Turgeau

A lovely version of "Dodo Turgeau" from Dupervil. Enjoy this stately song. For those interested in earlier recordings, there's also one from Issa El Saieh online.

Lolita Cuevas Sings Haiti

A beautiful rendition of "Haiti" by Puerto Rican singer Lolita Cuevas, accompanied on the guitar by Frantz Casseus. My favorite version of this song remains that of Issa El Saieh, but this is a very lyrical recording only worsened by the audio quality. It would be an interesting little side project to discover more about Puerto Ricans in Haiti, since Puerto Ricans like Cuevas spent much of her childhood in Haiti and established a career for herself singing in French, Creole, and Spanish. 

Yoyo

This is a beautiful rendition of Haitian meringue, "Yoyo" with a full orchestra. I could do without the English words thrown in, but I love the orchestra. Of course, I still prefer Raoul Guillaume's version. 

Yon Ti Secret

Danielle Thermidor's "Yon Ti Secret" has been stuck in my mind this week. It's a very 'Latin' sounding song with an older meringue aesthetic I adore.

Les Kombass Play Haitian Music

"Loulou" is a beautiful Haitian meringue from the French Antilles. Featuring the legendary Henri Debs and Kombass, one can only expect high quality work. Debs would later make a name for himself as a producer of zouk music after playing in bands in the 1950s and 1960s. For more of their music, listen to their lively (and jazzy) biguine, "A Mon Ami Al Lirvat" I highly recommend reading Zouk: Music World in the West Indies by Jocelyn Guilbaut for more information.

Marabout de mon coeur by The Josephs

Lovely instrumental take on the classic "Marabout de mon coeur" by Roumer (with music from Legros). Although I have blogged about this meringue lente before, the only sung version I had located then was by Joe Trouillot from the 1950s. Anyway, while hearing this song, one could not help but note the overwhelming similarities between this meringue and Cuban danzón (or the Puerto Rican danza).

Maestro Issa

Enjoy this fascinating documentary with priceless video footage of various Haitian and Cuban music legends performing and explaining the development of Haitian music in the 1950s. It's a lovely documentary on the influences in 1950s Haitian music during la belle epoque. Issa El Saieh's orchestra took in influences from Cuban music, Vodou, jazz, Haitian mereng, and made magic in pre-konpa Haiti. The important links between Haitian and Cuban music get a lot of attention, too, demonstrating what I like to call 'CubAyiti.' We even see Bebo Valdes play piano, Daniel Santos sing, Beny More, Martha Jean-Claude, Celia Cruz, and many other legends.

Haiti

A lovely and jazzy rendition of a song I believe was penned by Issa El Saieh, or at least interpreted by him. Love how this jazz group slows things down a bit. Undoubtedly, I must locate more jazz like this, 'world' jazz that incorporates the various musical traditions of other parts of the world through a thoroughly jazz vein. Enjoy!