outside the lines

When I was growing up in Junkanoo, drummers were in high demand. I don’t know what it was about drumming, whether it wasn’t as glamorous as other aspects of junkanoo, but there always seemed to be a shortage of good drummers. Those that were available were usually snapped up by the big organized groups.

In those days, my cousin Adrian and I were committed junkanoos who had little interest in rushing with the organized groups. Both of us were decent drummers, so we had little trouble finding a group to rush with. We just basically showed up at the parade – most of the time we would hook up with a small scrap band waiting to be let onto the parade, other times we would get the police officers to let us onto parade alone (it helped that we had lit sternos in our drums, that tended light a fire under people!). Now this was later on down the road when the Westerners had really petered out so that it was only Sue Moss, Uncle Johnny, Adrian and me left. The four of us would meet up at Sue’s house at four or so. Sometimes the four of us would leave around five, five-thirty and go down together, sometimes Adrian and I would go alone and they would watch a bit of the parade on TV and come down to Bay around 6. It’s amazing really, even after Sue and Uncle Johnny stopped going, Adrian and I (and anyone else who would join us) would still start out from Sue’s house. She would always be up to see us off, getting us tea or coffee or something stronger.

Although I didn’t really understand the importance of it at the time, we were tradition bearers in the true sense of the word. I mean, yes we understood, I understood or at least felt deeply that it was important to keep that tradition alive. But at the time it was more a personal or family tradition (I use the term “family” not in its biological sense, but rather in the Bahamian sense that people that grow up together in a community are considered and referred to as family: uncle, cousin, aunt etc).

I don’t think I understood that we were tradition bearers in a broader sense. You see as far as I can gather, by that time, the Westerners was the only surviving old-time junkanoo group, the only remaining link to another era. Adrian and I were the last active members of that group. I suspect that’s why Nico felt (and probably still feels) so strongly about me joining up with One Family. We were the only remaining links to the past, and when Adrian moved out to LA and spent a couple of Christmases over there, well, then there was one.

That was a heavy burden to bear, especially as to me, the tradition had already died for all intents and purposes. You see for me the big difference between scrap junkanoo and big group is who you’re doing it for. With scrap junkanoo you are rushing for yourselves, for each other – one big musical jam session – you’re listening to one another and playing for one another – true call and response. In organized junkanoo you are performing for the crowd (and for the judges) like an operatic company on stage. Now one is not better than the other – outside of junkanoo, I have performed in concerts on stage and in jam sessions with other musicians. I love them both. The focus is different, though.

What I’m getting at here, though is that for me, the scrap, the old-time junkanoo was a shared experience. When it was just me one going out – though I might continue with the aim of maintaining a long standing tradition – well that tradition was already dead. It was no longer the Westerners, it was just Eddie Bethel another scrap rusher going to Bay. Nothing wrong with that – I enjoyed and still enjoy rushing scrap from time to time. But I don’t believe in a group of one.

Mind you I still went for many years after joining One Family. In the beginning, I would rush one parade with One Family and one parade with Westerners. Especially if Adrian was going to be in Nassau for one of the parades, I felt that as long as it was the two of us, then we could keep it going. Even when I rushed with One Family, for me the parade started on Virginia St. That’s where I would park and get my costume and drum together then proceed on to Bay from there. For the one or two years when it was just me the only remaining Westerner starting out from Virginia St, I knew that the end was near …

(more to come)

I have a huge amount of respect for Stan Burnside. I remember when One Family was first formed and he was one of the movers and shakers in the new group. I remember after the first Boxing Day and New Year’s Day parades, we had taken fourth in both parades. I remember the “Sideburns” that Stan drew. It showed One Family before and after the parades with the caption:

(before) And the Lord said come forth
(after) And so they came 4th

It showed great character to be able to stand up and take licks. Me – I didn’t want to hear anything about junkanoo, not for a couple of days, or maybe a couple of weeks. You see, that was the first time I had rushed organized Junkanoo, so that was the first time that my enjoyment of the parade was dependent on something other than, well, my enjoyment of the parade. As soon as the parade is over, there is that feeling of dread: knowing that your parade is not, in fact, over, but you have no more control over the outcome. Coming fourth, (or third, or even second, for that matter) can really take the wind out of your sails. Your costumes are fabulous, you’re out there giving the performance of your life – and it’s not enough!

Winning is not much better. Junkanoo is not like track where you can throw your arms up when you cross the finish line because you know you’ve won. Or like soccer, where you celebrate as soon as the final whistle blows. Even when you’ve won, you have to go through that same period of turmoil wondering which parade the judges saw, whether they are going to give you your due.

For me the whole competitive side of things added a whole new layer of stress to the parade. In organized junkanoo winning the parade underscores everything you do. All you do is aimed at scoring points with the judges. I mean, you can’t tell me as a junkanoo you aren’t affected by judges walking up and down the group inspecting costumes, listening to the music, evaluating the performance, if you are committed to winning. As soon as you see them you are going to make that extra effort, push that little bit more. The point is that there is a conscious thing going on there – just like there is on Rawson Square. Everyone consciously keeps a little bit in reserve so they can let it all hang out at Rawson Square.

Complicating matters is that you only have two opportunities to justify a year’s sacrifice. Added to which, winning is determined by aesthetic judging which by its very nature is subjective. Like everyone else, every parade I give my assessment of the top five or six places as I see them. Whether they agree with the official totals seems entirely hit and miss. And it’s not as if I’m going by different criteria for judging the parade – rules of the parade and criteria for judging are available on line for everyone to read (follow the links if you don’t believe me!).

It seems almost random. I can’t fault the judges entirely, either. They seem to be a reflection of society in general. Whenever I sit down with a group of normally right thinking Bahamians, all of us will have a different view on who won the parade. Also when the scores are as close as they have been for the past few years, it’s hard to convince me that there was any rhyme or reason as to why this group won by seven points out of four thousand over the next group.

So here’s the situation. You’re killing yourself to produce the most spectacular presentation, not just for the sake of it but also because nothing less than the best will win the parade. At the same time, there doesn’t seem to be a direct link between the quality of the performance and how well you do in the parade. All of this is an emotional drain for me.

There’s no grace in winning or losing in The Bahamas. When you win, it is your duty to lord it over your competitors. When you don’t win, you vociferously explain how you were unjustly treated. Not by accident, mind you. You were cheated or robbed of the victory. Now this isn’t only in junkanoo, but in any kind of competition. Junkanoo just lends itself to this more because you can’t give any clear cut evidence of the victory in the same way that you can in sports. The outcome is that even when you win, no one else thinks you’ve won anyway; when you don’t win, you think that you’ve won, but no one else thinks you’ve won. So is there really much of a difference?

Winning, losing – why is it relevant? I can’t imagine any of the junkanoo people I know pouring any less of themselves into the parade if there were no official rankings. In sports parlance, in junkanoo everyone leaves it all on Bay. Nothing is saved or held in reserve.

I’m sorry to say I don’t give much value to the judges’ decisions anymore. Again, I don’t blame the judges – it’s more a function of the subjectivity involved. What I mean is first, second, third, fourth, fifth even, it doesn’t mean much to me anymore. So when the parade is done, I don’t worry about how they are going to rank the parade. Man, I stopped carrying that burden long time. When I rush, I put all my junkanoo energy into the parade. Nothing left afterwards to worry about first, second, third.

I do believe that competition and standardized judging is an important part of the parade but right now all of that does not go so well with the Bahamian psyche. So what to do?

I’m trying to put together some old recordings of junkanoo. Unfortunately not very many are commercially available. I’ve assembled a short clip of some tracks that are available at Global Sounds or Folkways. Unfortunately none of them are recorded live at the parade. I’m also in the process of obtaining a copy of Chippy’s Carnival in Nassau lp. As far as I know, this is the only live recording of pre-70’s junkanoo commercially available. Next time in Nassau I hope to start to go through my fathers collection to see what is still salvageable. If anyone has any recordings they want to share give me a shout!

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wooden drums
carpet fringe
the hill beat
the slow beat
sifter masks
steeple hats
watching for free
rushing up and down Bay