when theory meets Spirit
What follows is an abridged version of a work-in-progress that I have presented in my private workshops and at various institutions and conferences. Among other places, this work has been presented at the inaugural Theorizing African American Music Conference (TAAM) in Cleveland (July 2022) under the title, “When Theory Meets Spirit: A Reintroduction to Polyrhythm and Form” and at New York University under the title, “My Work is My Spiritual Practice: Finding Purpose and Meaning in Music Studies.”
THE IMPORTANCE OF SPIRITUALITY IN BLACK MUSICS
They say to me they want a musical change in pan
Well, I didn’t tell them yes
But, I didn’t tell them no
I say, “Well gentlemen, I go do the best I can
As long as you challenge me
Well I going to have a go”
They all indicated that they were getting bored
And they would appreciate something new
So, I thought it best to change to the minor chord
To see really who is who (Beat pan!)
Boogsie on the tenor (Beat pan!)
Bringing out the minor (Beat pan!)
Up come the professor (Beat pan!)
To add to the fire (Beat pan!)
I callin’ on Bradley (Beat pan!)
To challenge Beverley (Beat pan!)
Which means Desperadoes (Beat pan!)
Go answer Tokyo
— Pan in ‘A’ Minor, Lord Kitchener
Lord Kitchener
So begins the popular calypso, “Pan in ‘A’ Minor.” The song is by Aldwyn Roberts, the late great calypsonian from Trinidad & Tobago who is best known by his sobriquet, “Lord Kitchener,” and is affectionately referred to as “Kitch.” I wanted to start this section with this particular song, not only because it is one of my favorites, but also because it is one of the few calypsos that I can think of that directly refers to both the topic of music theory and spirit.
The song is a sort of ode to pan arrangers like Len “Boogsie” Sharpe, the late arrangers Ken the “Professor” Philmore, Clive Bradley, and Beverly Griffith, as well as the other arrangers who are tasked with turning a popular calypso or soca into an arrangement for the large steelbands during the annual Panorama competition, one of the many musical competitions that take place during the pre-Lenten carnival season.
Later in the calypso, Kitch sings,
I there and then decide the minor should dominate
If not entirely, for most of the melody
You’ll notice the chorus carries a simple hook
From E7 to A minor
It really designed to give you a strange new look
On the road to Panorama
Beat pan!
— Pan in ‘A’ Minor, Lord Kitchener
Towards the end of the piece, Kitch reminds the pan arrangers that unlike the days when steelbands clashed in physical fights, today they are fighting for “tonal quality, the spirit of carnival, and good phrase.” Note that in the song Kitch suggests that the battle is not only a musical one, but a spiritual one as well. This is not unusual in music from Trinidad & Tobago where spirit is often mentioned in songs and the phrase “pan is a jumbie” is commonly heard; “jumbie” being another word for spirit or ghost. However, my position is that spirituality is an important aspect of music not only in Trinidad & Tobago, but also throughout the African diaspora.
And if we are to truly decenter whiteness and create music programs that are socially just, theoretical frameworks of Black music need to include a fundamental understanding of African-based spirituality that is taught not only in the “ologies,” (i.e. musicology and ethnomusicology), but across all music disciplines. An emphasis on the “sound” typical of Western frameworks effectively marginalizes Black people through a devaluing of African-based ways of thinking and being. What follows is my attempt to articulate ideas that have been germinating for some time now regarding approaches to theoretical concepts in music that marginalize Black people in studies of Black music in Westernized institutions of learning.
AFRICAN-BASED SPIRITUALITY
So, perhaps it is best that I start by stating what I mean when I say African-based spirituality. At this point, I use the phrase somewhat loosely as the ideas that I express here are still percolating in my mind. However, African-based spirituality is not tied to a particular religion and can be found across a wide variety of organized religions adhered to by Black people, from orisha-based practices to Christianity. Rather, African-based spirituality refers to a set of beliefs and practices, and though not exhaustive, I’ve created a list of some that may have bearing on today’s discussion.
So, among these practices we have:
Belief in a Higher Power
Belief in spirits, including ancestors
Belief in a connection between the “living,” “dead,” and unseen forces
Belief in the ability to manipulate energy/forces of nature
Interconnection of all life, sacred & secular
Now these beliefs are not exclusive to Black or Afro-descended people. However, Westernized education either does not recognize or devalues those beliefs, particularly when coming from Black people. And even though much of Western art music is based in religious music (that recognizes many of the beliefs listed above) it would appear that this aspect is ignored in present-day teachings. Yet these teachings are important for understanding Black aesthetics and for having a working understanding of Black theoretical constructs in music. With that said, I want to now examine how African-based approaches to one theoretical construct—form—frequently have been marginalized in music studies, as well as the importance of understanding form’s connection to spirit in Afro-diasporic musics.
MUSICAL FORM DEFINED
Britannica.com describes musical form as follows:
“the structure of a musical composition. The term is regularly used in two senses: to denote a standard type, or genre, and to denote the procedures in a specific work. The nomenclature for the various musical formal types may be determined by the medium of performance, the technique of composition, or by function.” https://www.britannica.com/art/musical-form
PAN! OUR MUSIC ODYSSEY
The 2014 film, Pan! Our Music Odyssey: A Steelband Story, written by Kim Johnson, tells the story of pan through the use of historical fiction interspersed with a documentary of the 50th Anniversary Panorama competition, which took place in 2013. The film highlights a few select bands, their arrangers, and some local and foreign pannists vying for spots in the bands so that they can take part in the historic competition. A noticeable character in the film is Andy Narell, a white American who began playing pan as a little boy after his father had befriended and assisted pioneer pan tunist, Ellie Mannette, when he arrived in the United States from Trinidad.
For the 2013 Panorama competitions, Narell was chosen to be the arranger of Birdsong, a steelband that according to the narrator was started in the 1970s by “university radicals” and who were considered so avant garde that they had “a hard time getting enough players to enter the large bands category.” In the film, the narrator states that 15 years prior, “Andy made the news by being the first foreign arranger to tackle Panorama,” and that his challenge in 2013 was “insane” considering that Birdsong had never won the national competition.
In some ways, the film sets up a dichotomy between the traditional large steelbands and Narell. The narrator, states that “to win, some prefer the shiny clichés and the effects that the judges like. But Andy can’t accept that. His choice is clear. He wants to tell a musical story.” Narell sees himself as an innovator in contrast to other, local arrangers and can’t understand why he has not been able to make it to the finals competition as a bandleader. He says,
It’s funny because the guys who created steelband and who created the pan were totally anti-establishment. They were totally in rebellion. I don’t understand why the same society that created that is content to say okay this is what it is now. And we’re gonna let it…we don’t want people to rock the boat anymore.
—Andy Narell, Pan! Our Music Odyssey
Later, when Birdsong fails to secure one of the top ten spots necessary to advance to the finals round of the competition—they come in 11th place— the loss is incomprehensible to Narell. He states,
The only thing…I would say about the music is I thought it was the best thing I ever wrote. And I thought that was the best performance I ever got out of a steelband. It was the most exciting thing I’ve ever put on stage in presenting my music. And what are you gonna to do? That’s not worthy of playing in Panorama finals? I don’t get that. But let’s not even talk about that…
—Andy Narell, Pan! Our Music Odyssey
Narell and some of his supporters believe that his inability to reach the finals is purely political. Now let’s face it, competitions can often be political, and given his attitude (which one can perceive as arrogant and hostile) I wouldn’t be surprised if he was blocked on those grounds alone, but what story did the music tell? Did Narell capture the “spirit of carnival” as Kitch suggested in “Pan in ‘A’ Minor”? I’ll give you a hint. In reviewing the notes I had taken while watching the film, I saw where I had written, “I hope he doesn’t plan to win with that.”
There are several problems with Narell’s gripe, which indicate that although he has studied pan for a long time and clearly is a fine technical player, he does not understand the spirit of Trinidadians, nor the spirit of carnival. In the interest of time, I’m going to highlight one aspect of the musical form that I believe sunk his chances of making it to the finals competition. Please note that my assessment is only based on the segments of Birdsong’s performance that were included in the film and is not based on a deep analysis of all the performances in the 2013 competition. In other words, I’m not comparing his piece to any of the others performed during the competition.
The reason why in my notes I stated that “I hope he doesn’t plan to win with that,” is because the piece, which I would describe as falling in the pan-jazz genre, did not capture the spirit of carnival. It was a nice piece, and well played, but this is carnival. Ironically, as much as he’d like to think of his piece as revolutionary, it did not inspire the type of movement associated with a revolution; it did not insight rebellion. To my ears, the segments that were included in the film sounded like elevator music, nothing particularly innovative, and quite frankly music that I might put on to sleep. Now, I’m not knocking the composition per se, but it’s use in a carnival competition.
Narell chose to compete with one of his own original compositions. Although original compositions are allowed, historically steelbands have performed popular calypsos and later soca tunes of the current season that were arranged for pan by the bandleaders. Kitch’s “Pan in ‘A’ Minor” was arranged by a number of bands for the 1987 Panorama competition. It’s not uncommon to have multiple arrangements of a song, especially when a tune is particularly “hot” during the carnival season (is a “big chune!”). Interestingly, the most memorable arrangement of the song that year, Jit Samaroo’s rendition for the Amoco Renegades steelband, did not win the competition. Nonetheless, it remains iconic in the hearts and minds of Trinbagonians, and the late pan arranger, an Indo-Trinidadian, is remembered as one of the country’s finest.
Jit Samaroo
Jit’s arrangement contained the spirit of carnival. This was reflected in the form of the music, including the genre choice (i.e. calypso/soca), which displays characteristics of music in Sub-Saharan Africa (like communal participation and call and response) that are prevalent in music throughout the African diaspora and that I would argue engender and foster a sense of spirit, or spirituality, if you will.
The steelband is not just a band of musicians. They’re also the fans and those who make up the life in the panyard. The audience, the curious, aficionados, all are welcome. What is important is to have numerous supporters.
—Narrator, Pan! Our Music Odyssey
Jit did not use an original composition, but rather a popular song. This technique breeds a certain familiarity, something that the audience can feel a part of and simultaneously take part in. In addition, it fosters unity in a number of ways. First, memory is an important facet of African spirituality, which is evident in music. From quoting, sampling, remixing, the use of riddims, and more, Black music remembers, recalls, and unites past, present, and future in ways that highlight the importance of community. Second, the lavways, or the short responses in call and response choruses, such as Kitch’s “beat pan” have a long history in the music of Trinidad & Tobago, predating the modern calypso. Their short structure, makes them easy to learn, and thus makes it easy for people to participate in the music making on the spot and without rehearsal. Now, steelbands practice long and hard for these competitions, but my point is that choice of song and certain song structures engender the spirit of community and harmony. Although Panorama is an instrumental competition, arranging a popular song with lyrics allows the audience to sing along at strategic points. It also, allows the audience to hear just how innovative arrangers are in their rendering of the piece. Although it appears that Narell understands innovation to come from the new, I would argue that it’s easier to hear and recognize innovation in the familiar than it is in the unfamiliar.
Jit Samaroo understood the importance of making sure that the music connects to the people, as does Len “Boogsie” Sharpe, arranger for Phase II, who insinuates the same when he is interviewed for the film.
First to begin, I cannot read or write music. The music what I get is from the Lord Almighty Father. When I doing a song…I mumble the melody in my head… Now when I writing, I picture what happening in the Savannah: people jumping up and carrying [on]…Yuh making noise. So, I arranging to that action. I create the music to suit that.
—Len “Boogsie” Sharpe, Pan! Our Music Odyssey
Boogsie is creating music to suit the people, to suit their “freeing up,” to suit the rebellious but also festive spirit of carnival. In contrast, Narell states that:
What I’m trying to bring here is just be one of the people that says it’s still about the music. It’s still about creating new music all the time and everyone should be as different from each other as possible.
—Andy Narell, Pan! Our Music Odyssey
Narell fails to understand that the music is more than just about the sound. Yes, the sound is important, but because of how it functions in people’s lives. If he had a true understanding of African-based spirituality and how it extends into the lives of Trinbagonians and others in the diaspora, he would understand that everyone is unique but “all ah we is one family.” That is, we each have a place in the whole. And while we exhibit our uniqueness, we are not necessarily trying to be different. I think it’s more everyone is just trying to be…and be themselves.
But Narell’s way of thinking (which I see as steeped in enlightenment values) is one that I run into constantly. In the social justice work that I do in music, I often come across performance instructors (i.e. band and orchestra directors, in particular), who do not understand how to teach, let alone know what is important to teach when It comes to the music of Black, Brown, Indigenous, and Asian people. Many attempt to bring the same theoretical approaches of Western art music to those of African-based music. A number have trouble understanding or even appreciating the cyclical nature of the form of much of this music, that there is actually purpose in the structure. For many, the repetition is viewed as redundant and reflecting a lack of creativity, whereas the polyrhythms are deemed chaotic. But they miss the point. When the music becomes just about the music, it’s already dead.
Peter Minshall
The famed Trinidadian mas’ designer, Peter Minshall, who is white, clearly understands, that his art, his creations, no matter how exquisite, have no life without the proper spirit.
In the film, Paradise Lost, Minshall talks about two of his most famous masquerade designs, the King and Queen costumes known as “Tan Tan” and “Saga Boy.” Tan Tan, or tantie, is an affectionate term for an “auntie” or aunt-like figure. In contrast, “saga boy” is a term used to describe a “sweet man” or playboy. Minsh states, “As happens to a lot of my mas’ Tan Tan and Saga Boy are dead things until you put them onto a human being and they come alive.”
The carnival masqueraders have to embody the spirit of the art, music or otherwise, in order for it to have the intended meaning. Imagine what would have happened if they merely walked across the stage. You can tell that by design the costumes were meant to do more than just walk. Because Minsh understood that you can’t play a saga boy with no swag. Just like you can’t win Panorama with pan jazz. Unfortunately for Narell, he didn’t understand that.
As I’ve stated elsewhere, Western art music focuses very much on form, musical form—whether that be sonata form or blues form, or the specific structures that make up the music. There is a certain privilege given to form. And while form and theory are a part of African-based music, the importance lies not in the form, but what is within the form—and that is life itself. A whole system for living is encoded in Black music. Black music, African-based music, is about living. It teaches you about life. It teaches you how to come into this world and how to leave. It teaches you how to make love and how to make war. In essence, it teaches you about what you will confront in the world, and how to proceed with navigating life in this world. Compared to how we treat Western art music, this is very different. And so, to teach Black music in all its gloriousness is to contend with the fact that we cannot teach it only through sound, no. It is not just about the music. To teach Black music, African-based music, you have to know the world and worldview in which it lived and continues to live, because Black music is alive. To remove spirit from the way we teach Black music is in essence to keep the music dead. At least that’s how I understand it.
And so, I surmise that among other reasons, Andy Narell’s piece didn’t make it to the Panorama finals because it was effectively dead. There was no spirit in it, at least not one that his collective audience could recognize. Narell sees his music as revolutionary, as pushing boundaries. For him, pushing boundaries is a rebellious act, and he views rebellion as the essence of pan. But he missed a fundamental point about the spirit of pan, of Black music. It’s not only about how the arrangers can stretch themselves creatively, but how they can do so while still managing to create for the people, the community, the collective. It’s hard for me not to view his inability to reach the finals as resistance by judges who see his intrusion as an attempted one-man coup, an attempt to recolonize the people of sweet T&T and tell them who they have to be. Sometimes we just want to be. And just being is the real revolutionary act.