“These songs are mostly slave songs taken from the Vodou cult. They speak of the quotidian, of the suffering of exile, and the desire of Africa, not as a geographical place but as a mythical land of freedom. They express their resistance and their refusal: resistance to the colonizer, refusal of his politics, of his religion, of his culture, of his language.”
So begins Toto Bissainthe’s statement on the rear of Chante Haïti, her 1977 collaboration with a small combo of Antillean folk and French jazz musicians: vocalists Marie-Claude Benoît and Mariann Mathéus; percussionists Akonio Dolo and Mino Cinélu (Miles Davis, Weather Report, Gong); Patrice Cinélu on acoustic guitar; and Beb Guérin on the double bass. The songs indeed fuse the Vodou ritual of her native Haiti with the European avant garde sounds of her adopted milieu of Paris, where she had moved to pursue acting and found herself a de facto exile due to the political situation back home. Bissainthe had become a prominent figure in the French theatre, performing in new plays by Beckett and Genet and co-founding Les Griots, France’s first Black theatre company; by the late ‘70s, she was an acclaimed recording artist to boot. Her accomplishments made her a prominent figure in the Haitian diaspora and her activist streak is apparent throughout Chante Haïti, explicitly linking the grief and yearning for liberation in these traditional ceremonials with the country’s contemporary struggles.
Like many songs on the album, the Creole words of opener “Soley danmbalab” mourn the people's estrangement from Mother Africa, a crossing which can neither be reversed or repeated. It begins like a field recording, Bissainthe’s soulful, Miriam Makeba-esque voice set to a chorus of rattles and bells and gurgling masculine whispers. As the song develops, her melody wends like a stream through the dense jungle of percussion, dissonant bass, and counterpoint chanting. Eventually, Mino Cinélu’s arrangement becomes more free, the male chorus imploring the Oungan (a male Vodou priest) to intercede with the creator on the people’s behalf as the tune breaks down into an increasingly abstract bass and drum interplay, while the three female singers exchange birdlike vocal improvisations.
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“Ibo Ogoun (Variations)” is even wilder, evoking a trance ritual, the spirits speaking in many tongues through the celebrants as they seek to summon Ogun, God of Iron and War, to lead the battle of liberation. One of the male percussionists times his tanbou beat so that it hits just as he sings certain notes, creating the illusion that he voice has suddenly lurched down an octave for a moment, almost like a DJ freaking a vocal sample. Bissainthe, Mathéus, and Benoît match the intense drumming with some crazy syncopations, sometimes talking, sometimes hissing and whispering, sometimes wailing and ululating.
Most of the album takes on a more meditative tact, anchored by Guérin’s plangent double bass. On the smoky “Papadanbalab,” an entreaty to the serpent creator Damballa to bear witness to the penury of his people, Bissainthe sways over a slinky jazz bass line, Patrice Cinélu adding mellow acoustic fusion licks. The song seems like a brief stopover in a Parisian club. But even the less overtly intense tracks pack plenty of musical interest. “Lamize pa dous” has this hypnotic rhythm that sounds exactly like a micro house beat—in fact, the first thing it made me think of was Ricardo Villalobos’ Alcachofa, or Animal Collective at their campfire ravingest. The song is about the moment of surrender to death, the winnowing of time represented by water encroaching on all sides, the realization too late that “we spend our lives trying to fill the sea with stones.”
Listening to a record like this, especially in light of Bissainthe’s note on the back excoriating the colonialist ethnographer who reduces Haitian folklore to “excitement and violence,” requires at least a smidgen of awareness from the white listener that Chante Haïti is not intended for them. The traditions it engages with are of deep spiritual significance to many Haitians, both in the ‘70s and today. But for those inside and outside the culture who are willing to approach it with respect, Chante Haïti is a fascinating fusion of Antillean and European musics, and a peek into a profound and secret history.
SUMMARY:
Clara is at the emergency command centre.
MENTIONS:
Rangers, Jamie Brennan, Phoenix Romero-Sawyer, Jay Romero-Sawyer
Clara let out an exasperated sigh as she conversed with—slash yelled at—Rusty and Duck over the radio. She had made her way to the emergency command centre after the earthquake, and once it had been made clear that both the Head Ranger and the Game Warden would be out of commission, she had kicked into high gear making sure that she was staying on top of everything. And at least trying to get them to rest.
"For the last time, I've got it covered," she said with a tone that brokered no argument. "You can help with search and rescue but don't overexert yourselves. Yes, I say this knowing you will both ignore me, but I still want it on the record that I tried."
The radio crackled to life in response, with Rusty reminding her that she was in charge of everyone except him, and Duck reminding her that they were technically in different departments altogether, resulting in another beleagured sigh. After issuing a reluctant correction, she wrapped up the conversation and clipped her radio back to her belt.
Okay. She was in charge.
After taking a moment to let that reality sink in, Clara looked down at the map of Huntsville she had laid out on a table, quadrants for search and rescue hastily drawn out with various emergency personnel and rangers assigned to them. She had marked out all triage centres, and was keeping running notes for each of them listing medical professionals on site, number of patients with serious injuries, and a likely tally of people who would need to stay the night at either the clinic or the fire station.
Next to the map was a pile of lists that she was doing her best to keep updated as the day progressed—a list of people who have been confirmed fine, a list of people who have been confirmed injured, a list of people who were still missing, among others.
Pulling the list of rangers out of the pile, she looked down at it while fiddling with her engagement ring, spinning it around her finger and trying her best not to think about Jamie out there without her—or any of her loved ones out there without her. Running a hand through her hair, she took a deep breath before methodically going down the list.
NORTH TOWER
CLARA JONES - ACCOUNTED FOR
RUBEN HOBBES - ACCOUNTED FOR
CAIN BARLOWE - MISSING
SOUTH TOWER
DJ CRUZ-DUTTON - MISSING ACCOUNTED FOR, INJURED
VALERIA MORENO - MISSING ACCOUNTED FOR, INJURED
RICARDO REIDER - MISSING
Her radio crackled to life again. "Hey, it’s Val, and I have DJ here. We're at the fire station. Injured but not badly. Has Cain radioed in?"
"Okay, stay put and let me know if any rangers show up there, we're still missing a few," Clara responded, amending her notes to state that the pair were accounted for but injured, before frowning to herself. She could hear the concern and fear in the younger woman's voice, and even though she was also worried about Cain, she knew that she had to be reassuring. "And he hasn't, but I'm sure they will soon."
"Oh, okay. Let me know if they do. Can someone keep an eye out for Hunter too? Uh… Bleach blonde hair, probably walking around with a phone."
"Will do," the Acting Head Ranger replied before amending her notes and moving on.
WEST TOWER
MIA VAZQUEZ - ACCOUNTED FOR
MARCUS ZHAO - ACCOUNTED FOR
JAMES GOLDSTEIN - MISSING ACCOUNTED FOR, INJURED
Mia had managed to radio in earlier, reporting that her back and arms were cut up from shielding her kid and their dog from debris, but that she was otherwise alright. Marcus was uninjured, working search and rescue, and had been one of the rangers to locate Rusty and Reggie and then help them out of the haunted house.
Finally, when her radio sounded again, it was Elijah's voice coming through, reporting that he had found James and was trying to get him out of the bank. "Understood, I'll check in with the fire trucks and get one of them over to you ASAP," Clara replied, before once more amending her notes and moving on to the last section.
EAST TOWER
JAHI KARIM - ACCOUNTED FOR
ELIJAH ATKINS - ACCOUNTED FOR
EMRYS ROSSER - MISSING
Elijah and Jahi had both radioed in earlier, the latter joining Marcus to help Rusty and Reggie, but she hadn't heard from Emrys yet. She took a deep breath before noting the time and bringing the radio to her lips. "Attention rangers, keep an eye out for Barlowe, Reider, and Rosser," she barked into it. "They have yet to check in."
"What can I get for ya?"
Clara looked at her foster dad from behind the bar. The bar was busy, the dancehall was in full swing, and she had been serving drinks practically non-stop since she had clocked in for her shift. John had showed up on his way to work, and she knew damn well that he didn't want a drink—but if he was going to insist on checking in on her, she was going to insist on doing her job. Even if her job was just serving drinks at a bar.
Before he could respond, a loud crash was heard from the other side of the bar and Clara immediately jumped into action. Directing the other bartenders, she directed one to continue manning the bar, one to remake the drink that had spilled, and then disappeared herself to grab the broomstick and clean up the broken glass. When she returned, her dad was nursing a glass of water and giving her a pointed look.
"What?" she asked.
"You handled that well," John replied calmly before having a sip of water. "You were decisive, you gave clear and concise directions, and you took responsibility for the main job of cleaning up—even if it wasn't your mess to begin with. It's impressive."
"It's just a bar, dad," Clara said with a slight roll of her eyes. "I'm not exactly making life or death decisions here. I'm serving cocktails and cleaning up broken glass."
"Yeah, and the same skills are required in my job," he responded with a shrug. "Quick decision-making, a sense of duty, a willingness to be accountable. I'm not saying you should be a ranger, but we both know you're meant for greater things."
"Who says I want greater things?"
He let out a laugh before setting the glass down and getting ready to leave for his shift. "Clara," he said with a small shake of his head. "Everything about you screams it."
Once more, her radio crackled and she heard Val's voice coming through.
"Hey, Cain is here at the fire station. Some debris hit his eye but he should be fine."
After a brief exchange regarding the status at the fire station, Clara thanked her for reporting in before setting her radio down on the table and going back to amending her various lists. Her work was interrupted when an earlier entry caught her eye, and without thinking about it, she paused to brush her fingers over the names.
PHOENIX ROMERO-SAWYER - ACCOUNTED FOR
JAY ROMERO-SAWYER - ACCOUNTED FOR, INJURED
The word injured felt like a knife to her gut, and for a few seconds Clara struggled to breathe as she stared at it, before wiping a tear from her face and going back to work.
Hours passed, and never once did she stop working. It was getting closer to dusk and she was still on the radio, talking to the cops, talking to the medical staff, and coordinating with volunteers still working search and rescue. Looking up at the setting sun, she knew that she would have to start diverting ranger attention toward securing and eventually leading people to buildings that would be safe for the night ahead.
She took her duty seriously. She thought quickly, made concise decisions, and held herself accountable for making the right ones. She did everything that her dad had always known that she could, that she would, if she was ever in a leadership position.
She was Clara Jones. And she had finally managed to prove to the world, but most of all herself, that she was meant for greater things than she had once settled for.
Detroit rapper Bo$$ has died at age 54. Bo$$ was the first woman to be signed to Def Jam West. DJ Quik discovered her after she relocated to Los Angeles after high school and put her on "Mai Sista Izza Bitch" with AMG. Russell Simmons heard the song and signed Bo$$ to a deal with Def Jam West. Her 1993 debut album Born Gangstaz produced two number-one rap hits "Deeper" and "Recipe Of A Hoe." Bo$$ had the image of a rough street dweller but her album's intro revealed her middle-class origins that included a Catholic School education, ballet, and piano classes. In 1993, there were no other women rappers posing with guns and wearing straitjackets in their videos. Simmons and his marketing team had crafted Bo$$ into the first woman gangsta rapper. Fans did not care that the image was false because Bo$$'s rap skills and charisma in front of the camera sold the show. AMG, MC Serch, Jam Master Jay, and Erick Sermon were amongst the producers who made Born Gangstaz a classic. DJ Premier posted to Instagram to give his condolences and he revealed that they did a remix of "Deeper" that was never released.
She relocated to Houston, Texas in the mid '90s to work with rapper Ricardo Royal aka Coco Budda and they had a personal relationship that produced a son. Def Jam rejected the demos she recorded and dropped her from the label. She spent the rest of the '90s working as a radio DJ with a hip-hop show on KKDA-FM. By the end of the '90s she was battling kidney failure and her relationship with Royal ended. In 2001, she worked on Krayzie Bone's Thug On Da Line album. She released her Six Million Dollar mixtape in 2004. Her health issues escalated in 2011 and she reached out to the Facebook community for a kidney donor. In 2017, she had a stroke and by 2021 a GoFundMe was created to help pay for a medical procedure. The fundraiser surpassed the $15,000 goal. Bun B posted about Bo$$'s passing on his Instagram page and Jermaine Dupri, 9th Wonder, The D.O.C., Mia X, Chuck D, and Slim Thug left comments. Any woman rapper who has rapped about the violent aspects of streetlife has some kind of direct or indirect link back to Bo$$.
The last day of the Faire, the sky was overcast, with rumbles of thunder in the far distance. As Mayor Nat stepped up to the podium set up in front of town hall, a small crowd gathered to hear the announcement. She proceeded to declare Pandora Flowers as the winner of the costume contest, and withdrew the sword to present to the winner of the tournament, Morgan Vovk.
Before she could, though, Quinn Buckley from the commune ran up on stage and grabbed the microphone from the podium.
“Listen! You have to listen. This, all of this, is because of a being far greater than us! It sent the creatures from the woods to test us! To separate the weak from the strong. It judges us because it wants us to be ready before it reveals itself. We have to listen! We have to—“
Sheriff Henry attempted to take the microphone from her, but she struggled against him, still shouting into the microphone.
“It’s real! I felt its presence! Those that listen will be saved!”
Thunder rumbled, closer than before, much closer. A loud crack of lightning illuminated the sky, blindingly bright. Beyond the clouds, briefly visible in that split second, loomed a shape, unrecognizable and massive, both bulbous and gangly. As quickly as it appeared it was gone, and what remained was the sizzling body of Tristan Wilde, struck by the lightning. The sky opened up, then, as thunder boomed directly above, and rain and hail pelted the town.
“It’s there! You all saw it! It’s real! We have to submit!” Quinn wailed, as Henry attempted to pull her off the stage. “I can prove it! I can walk amongst them untouched! I’ve been chosen! You can be chosen too!”
Her cries fell away in the deafening downpour, and those that had gathered scattered to find shelter in the nearest buildings. Whether or not they saw something or, if they did, if they believe what they saw, remains to be seen.
The storm raged on through the night, as the creatures wandered the streets unperturbed by the rain and hail. The lights of the town flickered and then, as lightning staggered across the sky, everything went dark.
(Those that ran to find shelter found themselves stuck for the night. Below you’ll find the (randomly selected) groups. You can choose for your characters to have seen the shape in the sky, to have not seen it, or to have seen it and not believe it.
Everyone can continue/finish their event threads, as all this took place on the final day of the Faire (the 29th). You may also time-jump threads, headcanon threads, or make new threads for the plot drop. The event officially ends on August 5th, at which time please do not make any more event starters, however you can continue all threads until completion.)
Town Hall
Aslan “Dodger” Ozdemir
Bocephus “Beau” Romero
Birdie Tilton
Cain Barlowe
Eagan Connolly
Emma “Em” Dunford
Evangeline Cruz
Falco Romero
Fletcher Cole
Helena Theriot
Hex Sif-Sidon
Jessica Sinclair
Kirby
Louis Ryan
Nickleby “Nick” Dalton
Ocean Quinn
Odette Abbott
Olivia Hart
Poppy Sarasa
Prudence “Pru” Wheaton
Ransome “Rance” Slade
Saffron Aubert
Scout Garcia
Sierra Nevada
Starlynn Flowers
Fire Station
Absinthe Capone
Arachne
Arthur “Arty” Drake
Conrad Greene
Corvin Delancey
DJ Cruz-Dutton
Harlow Cole
Hawthorne “Hawk” Romero
Izan Castillo
Katarina “Rini” Roberts
Lachlan Ramirez
Logan Ferguson
Lorcan Hara
Luciana “Lucy” Rivera
Mercy Wainwright
Pandora “Andy” Flowers
Phoenix Romero-Sawyer
Rainn Scott
Reggie Alson
Ricardo Reider
Ruben Hobbes
Samantha “Sammie” Thompson
Sebastian Keane
Tae-Hyun Cho
Theodore “Teddy” Collins
Zain Madan
Police Station
Andrew Richardson
Antonio “Toni” Estrada, Jr.
Celia Ortega
Elijah Atkins
Emrys Rosser
Finn Cunningham
Halley McGillivray
Hunter Hilton
Jahi Karim
Jane Doe
Jareth Reid
Kestrel Sideris
Lincoln Abernathy
Luke Matthews
Mateo Suarez
Morgan Vovk
Pascal Mendoza
Quinn Buckley
Salem Salazar
Vincent Lewis
Violet Beauregarde
William Monroe
Wolf Lykaios
Zachary Ryan
Zarina West
Huntsville Bank
Alexander “Xander” Garcia
Cabell “Cab” McCay
Cassius Romero
Catherine Wayne
Christopher Winters
Briana Ryan
Dahlia Cruz-Dutton
Frances “Frankie” Wallace
Gabriel “G” Westfall
Genesis “Sissy” Boone
Harvey Langston
Josie Reigh
Mallard “Duck” Romero
Mason Greene
Maya Rae
Mylene Karimi
Raj Aiyangar
Raphael Knightley
Riley Saunders
Sandra Quispe
Sare Holmes
Sasha Medvedev
Spencer Holmes
Valeria “Val” Moreno
Wylie Bateman
Post Office
Avery Cowling
Benjamin Cade
Bowie Bardot
Bram Williams
Carter Behrens
Cassandra “Cassie” Slade
Eilana Kapur
Freya Atkins
Guillermo “Mo” Reyes
Jasmine “Minnie” Sinclair
Lennon Davies
Leo Brockton
Liam Jefferson
Matthew Walker
Mia Vazquez
Monet Vogel
Nathaniel Dawson
Ondine Konar
Paloma Ortiz
Reed Hendrix
Silas “Cyan” Canne
Tari Park
Wren Romero
Xavier Cade
Zoë Clark
Huntsville Library
Artemis Hayes
Axel Addams
Calloway “Cal” de la Luna
Casey Nestor
Claire Forbes
Clara Jones
Finch Sanders
Floyd Blackward
Hank McGillivray
Iniya Beckett
Ivy Oberon
James “Jamie” Brennan
Jeconiah “Jack” Abbott
Jett Liu
Kieran “KB” Barnes
Michael “Mikey” Beauregarde
Nicolas Garcia
Parker Russo
Peter “Rusty” Craven
Peyton Wilson
Reza Kogoya
Roman Forest
Rosemary “Rose” Felton
Sicilia “Lia” Flowers
Tamaraa Jillian “Jill” Adler
DJ WJM AT PROGRESSO TROPICAL #1 - E' PROIBIDO PROIBIR
2023/12/20
Progresso Tropical #1 - E' Proibido Proibir
GIUSEPPE VIGNA
RICCARDO DE SILVA
TROPICALIA by M. Machado
DJ WJM
Il Progresso - La Chute
Florence -IT
PROGRESSO TROPICALE è una rassegna nata per omaggiare gli artisti di "Tropicalia", il movimento estetico e musicale che, a circa 50 anni dalla sua comparsa, ha rappresentato una vera e propria rivoluzione culturale che, resistendo alla dittatura militare, ha traghettato il Brasile verso la contemporaneità.
La prima serata è dedicata ad uno degli ambasciatori di Tropicalia nel mondo, nonché forse il suo rappresentante più conosciuto anche in Europa: Caetano Veloso.
Insieme a Giuseppe Vigna (autore di un libro sullo stesso Veloso e esperto del movimento tropicalista) e Ricardo da Silva, ci avventureremo alla scoperta di questo importante momento della storia brasiliana che parla anche a noi, in un momento storico in cui sembra difficile immaginare un nuovo paradigma.
Seguirà la proiezione del documentario "Tropicalia" di Marcelo Machado del 2012, che introdurrà il pubblico al contesto storico, alle tematiche salienti e al ruolo degli artisti che vi hanno preso parte.
Per rendere il tutto ancora più "Tropical" al Progresso, a partire dalle 19:30 aperitivo a tema con dj set a cura di Roberta Meatball Adreucci.
Circolo Arci Il Progresso
Via Vittorio Emanuele II, 135A, 50134 Firenze FI, Italia
WHERE: South Ranger Station
WHO: Ric Reider (@ricardo-reider)
DJ was leaning back in his chair watching the sun slowly begin to set. It had been a rough two weeks, replacing the shutters of his windows with wooden boards when the news came out. Half the time it felt frustrating to just sit around, but there wasn't much that could be done about it.
Hearing the door creak open, he watched as Ric came in to the station, locking the door behind himself. "Cutting it pretty late there kid," he called out. Motioning towards the hunting rifle he had he said, "This thing doesn't slow em down enough if you get caught out after dark."