I like to consider myself an athlete. Most of my life I’ve participated in running, cycling, and soccer. These three sports are all-weather activities – no such thing as a rain delay or rain cancellation (well not entirely true – I remember one soccer game at TAR stadium being canceled because the field was under about three inches of water). In fact, the first time I saw snow, was while I was playing a soccer game. Anyway, rain or shine, these events go on.
Junkanoo used to be like that too. There were some memorable parades when the weather played a big part (of course the weather plays a big part now too – but more in the scheduling – parades only go on in good weather nowadays). I can remember one New Year’s Parade I didn’t rush – no rain, but it was windy! Like a hurricane. Groups with 3D costumes really had an advantage – the costumes could cut the wind somewhat. Unfortunately most costumes were flatback. That was a sight to see – costumes were only going two ways – sideways to try to cut the wind or backwards when the wind caught the costumes! It was quite dangerous really. In the end, groups got one person to walk behind those costumes supporting them.
I can remember too, many times when it would rain and you would just go on rushing. I can remember especially one year rushing with one family when there was a downpour. I was worried at first because in those days I carried a goatskin drum. I was afraid that with the rain softening up the skin I could easily burst the drum. It goes without saying too that the drums would be dumb. I don’t know how we got a fire going to heat them up in the first place. Not to mention the costumes – crepe paper doesn’t like fire, but it likes water even less. Man the colour runs so easy that if you don’t put your costume in airconditioning for storage, the humidity alone will cause the colour to run.
Anyway as it turns out, that rain parade was one of the most liberating experiences I’ve had in junkanoo. The rain forced me to abandon all concerns and just focus on making sweet music. In the end, the water did not damage the costumes nearly to the extent I had imagined – shoot I realized that at a dry parade, I probably sweat nearly that much water anyway. But after that first lap I realized that I was not alone in my good feelings. Everyone was upbeat – and those of you familiar with junkanoo will recognise that this is a rare enough thing. In the course of one lap something is bound to go wrong and, well you know how Bahamians go, you lucky if a fight doesn’t break out. But this time was different – it was as if we all gave in to the music – forgot trying to coordinate the double racks, or stay in our strict lines, or worry about the pasting job on the skirt, or whether there were enough feathers, or tricks, or anything else. We all let ourselves be transported through the music to a different junkanoo. We were no longer performing, we were rushing, a hundred musicians as one, together making a sound I hadn’t heard in years. In a way, the rain allowed us to abandon the script that is so important to modern junkanoo, and allowed us to do our own thing, together.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the artistic performance art that modern junkanoo has become. For that one shining moment, though, someone, somewhere was nostalgic for that controlled anarchy that was once junkanoo, and for the sweet sounds that were produced therein.
Not no more, though. These days, junkanoo is a fair weather thing, and like I said I appreciate that the performance that junkanoo has become deserves the best theatre for its staging. it sure felt sweet, though…
While you’re up there in Montreal, you may want to have a look at Victor Turner’s work on performance (if you haven’t already). If you’re familiar with Keith Wisdom’s work on Junkanoo, you’ll see he discusses communitas and flow, two of Turner’s ideas about performance and its effect on the human psyche, body, and society (in anthropology, of course, they’re all connected). I’m ashamed to say that I don’t remember which is which right now, but the point is that rehearsed, formal performance relies very much on one kind which is the result of practice and rehearsal and which is directed at an external purpose — affecting an audience, winning a prize, etc. It is concerted and unity of effort that is the result of repetitive action. The other is exactly that liberation that you discuss — a sense of oneness and community that arises spontaneously and that is not directly related to what one might call performativity (thinking of the spectator or the judge), but which is fundamentally related to the spontaneous activity of the group. What you call “controlled anarchy” is this Turner thing (I want to call it communitas and the other one flow, but I could have got them the wrong way round).
Go look ’em up.
I am remembering my discussions with Clement in 1981 as we were preparing to form the Dicey Doh Singers. Clement had heard us (Garland, Craig Major, KC, Silas Moore and myself) sing “Death” at a 1980 Chamber Singers Concert; he asked what I thought about getting some arrangements for a full male chorus. I felt that it would result in too rehearsed performances, without the spontaneity characteristic of the music. Clement thought it was worth a try, and we did it – the Dicey Doh Singers of the Barbados Carifesta 1981 was a really wonderful group (mixed gender) that put on some very good performances (pity there are no audio or video records), but as you know we have come full circle to a group with four, sometimes five guys singing; even though we tend to be well received on stage, I get much more enjoyment when we are just hanging around, usually at one of our homes, and someone spontaneously starts a song, and we just sing. No worries about whether that note was correct, or you didn’t sustain that phrase, or that tenor note was flat – just good old singing. Like I remember the night my grandmother died on Cat Island in 1960.
Yes – I know what you mean. In a way all the rehearsing and performing helps indirectly – forces you to perform together. It’s when you know each other so well that those spontaneous times turn into many singing or playing as one.
I don’t know it’s hard to describe, but you really don’t feel like you as an individual are singing or playing, you really feel the group as one.
Man…I remember that too tho…that was suppm to see guys gettin blown around. And I watched as people got smart and started walkin sideways. I felt so sorry for them! I saw one or two fall flat on their backs even man. I remember watching. One group went early on the first lap with no wind, can’t remember who but I believe that group won- LUCKY! But BOY the rest to follow got every bit of it! On the rain piece, I really hate to see the feathers when they get wet! Nasty lookin! But what can we do? I remember some sweet Saxon victories when we brought down the rain! “Send down the rain, we need the rain, send down that Holy Ghost rainnnnn!”