Yet another commonality shared by this music is the abundance of code or symbolism. Whether the socio-religious practice as a whole or the song in particular has secrets which to the uninitiated will pass as just random poetic license to lend a piece humour, to creating an altogether different topic entirely. This ensures that the message is only interpreted by those thusly initiated, and, in the case of some songs, that the child may enjoy its musicality, while the adult will find their humour appeased by the meaning beneath the song’s lyrics. One such song is “Rocumbine” and a line which can be used as an example “train top a line it a run like a breeze, gyal undaneat’ she a wash har chemise” this line, I was informed by Mr Hugh Douse, Artistic Director of the Nexus Performing Arts Company, an impish grin on his face, while able to be taken as is by a puerile mind, is alluding to the intimate act of coitus, even describing sweat soaking the clothes of the female as if being washed.
Having now been given that background, one must ask the question, how does one make this music stage ready or performance appropriate? The answer is not always the easiest, for there is always the consideration of whether or not the aspects needed to “stage” a piece are not necessarily going to be able to permit it to be able to remain authentic. An example can be made here of Kumina songs in performance. In their natural setting, Kumina songs are sung in unison, or octaves. For performance, however, it is generally accepted that one may harmonise the song being sung, presumably to maintain what I sometimes refer to as the austere professional aura of the performing arts, employed to make it seem not everyone can do as you are doing. The addition of harmonic parts may make the song more appealing to an ear nourished by the polyphony of the west, but it loses some of its potency in this translation. Now having constructed a context of sorts, what of the audience?
The folk music of Jamaica, as it is the amalgam, or often seen as adaptation of music of oppressor and oppressed/of the oppressor by the oppressed, has been met with many responses across the full spectrum of emotion, from joyous perpetuation and acceptance, to apathy, to loathing. The reason I would argue, is behind this loathing, (and as I find is often the case), is that it was born of an ignorance steeped in fear of the unknown. These responses follow along a gradient, which has as its base, the perception of the form itself among the populace. In the days of post emancipation colonial rule to early independence, one finds that the people had disparaging views of Jamaican folk. After years of British rule and governing, listening to the chorales and fugues of Bach, the oratorios of Handel; in schools the singing of European hymns and tunes. A nostalgic Mr. Dexter, in thoughts of youth remembers the daily devotions at his old primary school in rural Portland, where the school song for primary schools was “Jubilate”, and where melodies of Jamaican or Caribbean creation were not sung or encouraged, and in many cases prohibited. Many of the elite (and in some cases the aspiring elite), after years of the cultural suppression of slavery and colonialism, had come to associate all things European as being the standard of artistic expression, often, as this view ingrained in their homes, and propagated within the education system. The middle to lower classes, however, due to arguably being the practitioners, was the most receptive of the practice and preservation of folk music. These persons were normally found to have two “selves”, a public self, in which was contained their roles in what we could loosely term “corporate” settings, and a private self. An example of this is found when conversing with a Mrs June Eldemire, who was raised in Portland but now resides in Mandeville.
“We had a washer-woman and Gardener on the grounds of my old family home in Portland. Once my parents had left me in the care of Ms Ida (the washer-woman) while they were to overnight in Kingston for some event or other. I being fifteen at the time was thought responsible enough to stay home. That night, I remembered not having school the next day, Ms Ida, unwilling to leave me unattended, took me to a meeting at her “other church”. I was shocked to find out that both Ms Ida and Mr Johnson (the Gardener) were not only senior members, but the church’s leaders.” She went on to describe the Zionist revival church she had attended that night: the beautifully spread table, stirring music and movement that she witnessed that night.
(Photo credit: I add this here to inspire a search in the reader for music of other cultures: http://www.traditional-songs.com/)
