Dimensions In Rhythm

Rhythm Blog Intro

This intro serves to introduce not just me but the various directions this blog can take. There are a number of important discussions that I’ve been having with other interested parties, in various parts of the world, that deserve elucidation here. I will be attaching parts of my scholarly work as well as recordings or videos to help develop what I hope will become a useful resource for those of us trying to make sense of rhythm, from traditional sources, from theories, from archetypes, from our own creativity.

So, a blog about rhythm? I seem to have a lot to say on the subject. I don’t consider myself the best, the end-of-the-line, or the ultimate proclaimer of truth. Some may think rhythm is only a part of music, but it is nevertheless a vast subject, see-able from many perspectives. In fact, rhythm goes way beyond music, the human creation, but so do harmony and even melody, I suppose. I have only a partial fondness for mystical flights of fancy concerning the universal presence of rhythm; their exposition is not my purpose here. Consider, however, an idea from a mentor, “Music is just noise. Rhythm is everything.” Well, yes. Rhythm is coordination. It is movement and the relationships of movement. From the inner workings of atoms to the myriad biological processes of living cells, the beating of the heart, the breath, walking, flying, the weather, the movements of the planets and galaxies, all happens in time. And seen from a sufficiently broad perspective, all these frequencies are coordinated. Musical frequencies go together based on some points in time when cycles re-occur. This is usually the downbeat of the measure or metric cycle but could be just the beginning and end of the piece. That doesn’t seem to apply in nature—unrelated cycles are occurring all over, some less orderly, some very precise and predictable—unless we go all the way back to the big bang. From that point, if the theory serves correctly, all we know is related to the big ‘one.’

Massive zoom-in ala Google Earth from outer space to your house or the jump from hyperspace…you, me, practicing a simple, four beat cycle. Keeping time, then improvising within the cycle. And going outside a little. The more we grow, the more we approach the previously implied state. The mystical vision. It’s about embracing things we don’t understand and growing to understand more. Ultimately this leads us to multi-dimensionality. This is how we use rhythm to approximate, to reflect our experience of consciousness, of being alive in this profoundly multi-dimensional existence. Thus, mysticism or the, “belief that union with or absorption into the Deity or the absolute, or the spiritual apprehension of knowledge inaccessible to the intellect, may be attained through contemplation and self-surrender,” comes into play, perhaps not now, but eventually.[1] We can focus, and that is good. But we cannot deny the ultimate complexity our expression attempts to mirror, while adding yet another layer.

My background. Ah yes, where are we coming from? I have been intrigued by sound, and then music, for as long as I can remember. It is our birthright, more a focus for some. I began to express that intrigue on instruments (not of my own body) messing around on the trombone and piano, and then as a teenage guitarist. A little further down the road, after a term abroad in Guadalajara, I took a university ensemble entitled, ‘Music of Mexico.’ But somehow the content and title of the course didn’t match. The ensemble instead focused on ‘Salsa’ music. That is, Afro-Caribbean popular dance music, rooted particularly in the folkloric music of Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Dominican Republic. I found myself among eight or so guitarists (crowded around one chart!) and moved across the room to the percussion section. This came naturally and was my entrance to the world of multi-dimensional rhythm. I thereafter took ensembles in Ghanaian (Ewe), Nigerian (Yoruba), Ugandan (Baganda) and Balinese music, among others, with complementary coursework such as a yearlong course in ‘World Music Theory’, ‘Cross-cultural Perspectives in Jazz,’ ‘Music of India,’ and so on.  I also traveled to Cuba to study with the National Folkloric ensemble. During and after undergraduate work I studied Yoruba talking drums with master drummer and fellow UCLA student, Frances Awe. I did not pursue a traditional scholarly progression, however. After graduation, I continued to play music of the African Diaspora for several years, while doing coursework in French, African studies and International Development, eventually traveling to Côte d’Ivoire to volunteer with the Peace Corps. In the four years I was there, I worked and played traditional music in a variety of urban and rural settings, communicating in both French and local language (Jula/Bambara/Malinke). I also got really into the bala (aka the balafon), and the idea of melody and even jazz harmony combined with an African rhythmic sense.

I then spent five years in Zimbabwe playing mbira and popular music and almost ten years in South Africa, where I completed a Master of Music degree in Jazz Composition and a Doctorate in Musicology focused on multi-dimensional rhythmic archetypes in the world’s music, under supervision of Zulu Maskanda scholar, Dr. Kathryn Olsen. I studied Indian tabla for about four years as part of my research question, which included an evaluation of the theory and approach of renowned Puerto Rican percussionist, Efrain Toro. The paper is entitled, “The Harmonic Perspective of Rhythm.”

Now, after a few years on a sailboat, with no particular music focus, I find myself back in the States, trying to find my way. Academia? Composition? Play for a living? By chance, or perhaps divine intervention (I had a similar feeling when I moved to Arcata, CA many years ago), I find myself in Boulder, CO, a former hotbed of Jembe music. The still smoldering embers are now feeding my previously semi-dormant rhythmic focus, West African music.

I find myself able to slip right in and play, to solo, to really enjoy. I also find I have some catch up to do on the repertoire. I suspected this would happen one day. I know a good deal of it, and the technique and principles to help learn on the fly. In Southern Africa, I was pretty much the expert on that kind of music. A few people could play pretty well, but mostly the multi-dimensional aspect, from the traditional repertoire, was missing. All over the world, people love the instruments, Jembe and Dunun, but the repertoire is where the real power of the music is.[2] The same is true with congas and Cuban music. There are so many other amazing repertoires from the African Diaspora, but the instruments are, for the most part, less widely popular than those three.

I suppose you could make the same case for the drumset. It was developed to play jazz, but how many drummers out there have studied the history, the technique, and the greats to play jazz drumset really well? I won’t go into that now.

Now, in Boulder, I am playing with a few people who have had the opportunity to study and play in the performance groups of resident and former resident master drummers, like Fara Tolno, Abdoul Doumbia, Alya Sylla, and others. The level of musicianship, dedication, and exposure has gone way up while I was off discovering other things in the wide world.

Traditional versus modern apprenticeship.

Once again, this intro serves to introduce not just me but the various directions this blog can take. There are a number of important discussions that I’ve been having with other interested parties, in various parts of the world, that deserve elucidation here. I will be attaching parts of my scholarly work as well as recordings or videos to help develop what I hope will become a useful resource for those of us trying to make sense of rhythm, from traditional sources, from theories, from archetypes, from our own creativity.

[1]https://www.google.com/search?q=mysticism+definition&rlz=1C5CHFA_enZA574ZA574&oq=mystic&aqs=chrome.1.69i57j69i59j0l4.3627j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8

[2] There are many variations in the spelling of these instruments. At least two factors come into play: regional dialects, and the use foreign alphabets, from various language perspectives, to write previously unwritten, African languages. On the first point, you’ll hear the Mandeng bass drums called, ‘dundun,’ ‘junjun,’ ‘dunu,’ and so forth. I have chosen the way the way I heard them named in various places I visited in West Africa, that is, dunu for one drum and dunun for the plural or before the suffixes, ‘ba,’ meaning, ‘big,’ or, less commonly, ‘nin,’ meaning small. E.g., “Take that dunu.” “Bring those three dunun, please.” “Play the dununba for us!”  Still on the subject of regional variations, the common Guinean terms are now often used in the West, thanks largely to Mamady Keita’s very organized, but also standardized, system for presenting the rhythms. (This is a big subject I won’t go into here!) These terms are, of course, Sangban for the middle drum, Kenkeni for the high and Dununba for the low. As for the use of foreign alphabets, the widely used, ‘djembe,’ is really just a French spelling to approximate the sound of ‘j’ as we use it in English. (I’ll leave out linguistic terms for now, though the details could likely go on much longer.) Jula ‘Dioula,’ and Bambara, ‘Bamanakan,’ as I studied them, used some version of phonetic spellings, official or otherwise, to approximate the sounds as spoken, not to preserve written language idiosyncrasies (apologies to French speaker/spellers!) I’ve heard even music scholars refer to the ‘de-jembay,’ letting the spelling confuse the pronunciation, as we’re all apt to do, in our well-meant attempts to engage with various cultures of the world. Another popular example: The common surname, ‘Diabate,’ sounds like, ‘Ja-ba-tay’, not, ‘Dee-uh-ba-tay’, and is thus spelled, ‘Jabate,’ in some texts. There are arguments on all sides, but I prefer ‘Jembe.’ These languages were not written before colonization!