On October 9, 1948, Jamaica police shot and killed Ivanhoe Martin on Lime Cay in Jamaica. “Rhygin,” as he was more popularly known, was a gangster and a folk hero and, as many know, the inspiration for Perry Henzell’s The Harder They Come, a Jamaican film starring Jimmy Cliff as Ivan Martin. Although he was buried in a Pauper’s lot in May Pen Cemetery in Kingston shortly after he was killed, Rhygin’s memory has been kept alive for decades, largely through Henzell’s work. What many don’t know, however, is that the iconic two-gun image of Cliff-as-Ivan (as seen below) was not only based on photos actually taken of Rhygin when he was alive, but that Rhygin’s story was first appropriated for dramatic purpose in early 1948 in a Jamaican stage production called Rhygin’s Ghost by comedians Bim and Bam. Then, in 1966, Rhygin was the basis for a well-known poem Louise Bennett called “Dead Man”:
Wen smaddy dead dem dead fe true!
Koo yah, koo police man!
Tan up over Rhygin an dah-
Finga-print up him dead han!
*****
Koo dem fus pictures him pose fah.
Gun dem ready, blazin lead!
Koo de las picture him pose fah
Eena dead house, lidung dead!
But ah wanda wat would happen
To de picture-man Miss Sue?
Ef wen him dah-teck de picture
Rhygin duppy did sey “boo”!
Below are some images to tie this together. From top left, pictures 1 & 2 are of Rhygin in two-gun style; picture 3 (top, left) shows Rhygin dead on the beach and (right side) a police man “tan up over [him] and da finga-print up him dead han”; picture 4 is the image Bim and Bam used to advertise their production of Rhygin’s Ghost (Bim and Bam were friends of Bennett’s by the way–just FYI); and, pictures 5 & 6 are the images most will be familiar with (the first from a promo for the movie, the second appropriated by US-based reggae label Version City for a t-shirt). Many of the pictures are kind of lousy–I don’t have easy access to the actual newspapers at the moment, but these should be good enough to give y’all a sense of the history at play here.
Rhygin’s legacy lives on today, in a bit of global, historical consistency (beyond the movie’s continued marketing), as musical theater:
Anyone seen it? Looks like it might be pretty good…
I spent the last week at the Center for Black Music Research at Columbia College in Chicago on a little travel grant to track the Sankey repertory in Jamaica (and to a [much] lesser extent, other Caribbean islands) through field recordings. I found SO much great stuff, so I got some great material to think through for the next little while. The CBMR is a wonderful place, everyone there is great and they have all sorts of incredible stuff. A totally worthwhile trip.
In other news, I posted the following link on Victor Rice’s Facebook wall and thought it might be nice to put it here. It’s a 1939 film called The Devil’s Daughterthat was also released as Pocomania (it wasthe all-black version of a 1934 film released variously as Love Wanga, Ouanga, and The Crime of Voodoo;the 1939 film is far superior because it actually, you know, entertains). It is fascinating and includes some great performances (including, in this clip, what is probably the earliest footage of Jamaican hand drumming). The whole thing is worth watching, so here’s the first segment to get started:
A woman asked her grandmother how her grandfather had died. “He had a heart attack while we were making love one Sunday morning,” Granny said. Horrified, the granddaughter told her that two people that old having sex would surely be asking for trouble. “Oh, no,” said Granny. “Many years ago we realized that ringing church bells provided the perfect rhythm: in on the ding and out on the dong.” She paused, wiped away a tear, and continued, “But then the ice-cream truck came along.”
I’ve recently submitted an article about ice cream truck music to a book that will come out sometime next year on Oxford…having been pretty close to the subject for a little while, it’s entirely possible my perception of how funny this joke is is somewhat skewed (but somehow I don’t think so).
I haven’t posted since Wednesday. During that time we did a bunch of things, including a couple of sessions at Hughes (with Pearl O’Shaugnessy), an impromptu dinner with Tony and Jane, a party at Tony and Jane’s, a delicious Irish breakfast at a place called Faile, a session at the Duke, a Fordham law “end of term” party at McGratten’s [and some brief tunes at the session there], a session with Padraig at the Cobblestone and some general walking around. Have a look!
Oh, and the Little Boots song New In Townwas playing everywhere we went today. It’s officially Gail’s new favorite song so if you see her sing it to her.
Every summer after the Willie Clancy Week, the town of Tubbercurry hosts the South Sligo Summer School. (There is a week-long music festival somewhere in Ireland pretty much every week all summer.) I went yesterday with engineer/archivist/Irish music authority/all around great guy Harry Bradshaw.
A couple of weeks ago I sent Harry an email to say that I’d be in Dublin and to ask about having coffee or something while I was there. He emailed back he said he was going to Tubbercurry to give a lecture about flute players from the Sligo area on the 15th and asked if I’d be interested in coming along. Since that’d be my exact idea of fun, of course I said yes.
So yesterday, we got out start out to the west at about 9:30 am–his lecture was at 3:00 pm. However, what made the trip really special (and the reason so much time was scheduled for the trip) was that on the way over (and the way back) he gave me a guided tour of Michael Coleman’s Sligo. Harry’s basically responsible for putting out the best Irish music reissues. His most famous, probably, is the double compact disc set of Michael Coleman’s music, which came with a booklet he wrote of lavish, original research. It’s a subject close to his heart, so you might imagine the richly annotated tour he could give..and he gave it in grand style. A total treat. Have a look:
Oh yeah, and his lecture was fantastic. (I had a few favorites among the recordings he played: Peter Breen’s showpiece melody; one of Matt Molloy a couple of years before he was in the Bothy Band; a private recording of Josie McDermott playing with a bodhran; and one with a cornet by a player whose name I can’t remember.) I don’t remember what time we started for Dublin, but we stopped for dinner somewhere along the way and reached back around 9:30. He dropped me off near the Palace where I met Gail, and later on, Linda (who missed her flight that morning) for the session. I arrived and a couple of the folks from last week were already there, including Gerard whose banjo driving was once again in full flight. One of the women who sang last week, Ursula, was there again and sang a song (she was great). We also ran into Peter, a button accordion player who we first met a month or two ago at the Maggie May’s session in our neighborhood! (He’s an amazing box player and a real nice guy–apparently, he’d moved back to Dublin; he’d been living in Florida).
However, the weird highlight–or weirdlight if you will–from the night began when a woman tapped my shoulder and asked if a couple of Basque musicians could play. I passed the request on to committee who approved the motion and soon, a couple of kids who were maybe eighteen scrambled to put on what I would soon hear were a couple of the loudest button accordions I’d ever heard. They broke into a long piece and this is what it sounded like:
The session went on for a while longer and later on they played again. This time, one kid whipped out what I think is an alboka, while his friend played tambourine. Don’t know what an alboka sounds like? Well, click here and listen for the really, really loud unusual thing…that’ll be it:
Today’s issue of the Jamaica Gleaner reported that Theodore Miller, fiddle player, leader of the Lititz Mento Band, and mento music legend, passed away on June 10.
Miller was born on August 1, 1922 in the Watson’s Hill area of Manchester, a rural district very close to the St. Elizabeth border. The area he grew up in was full of mento bands. Miller formed his first band in 1940 with two guitar players, his brother Alfred Miller and Allington Rhodes; the group played mainly at parties, booth, and quadrille dances. It expanded in the 1950s and included, among others, Cleveland Salmon on rumba box. In the 1960s, Mr. Miller and his band forged an important association with the Lititz community center, and through it began competing in the Popular & Mento Music competition in the National Festival for the Arts. In 1967, his Lititz Mento Band placed first in what was their first year of competition. Many competition successes followed–a bronze medal in 1969, silver medals in 1970-72 and gold again in 1973. By the mid-1970s time it had become a Festival fixture and one of Jamaica’s most in-demand mento groups. Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, it was a darling of the Jamaica Cultural Development Commission. In recognition for its work in the “Preservation of Ancestral Rhythms” (an effort Miller led), the group received a Bronze Musgrave Medal from the Institute of Jamaica in 1998.
Here’s a clip of the Lititz band at a National Festival concert in the early 1970s, with T. Miller leading on the “figgle”:
I interviewed Mr. Miller in 2002 and he took me to my first nine-night (it was in Santa Cruz). The picture above is one I took of him playing that night–it was amazing experience. I consider him one of the most important people I spoke with during my research.
Like Moses Booth (Rod Dennis Mento Band) and Vincent Pryce (Blue Glaze Mento Band), Mr. Miller was from the first generation of mento band leaders to be recognized by the post-independence Jamaican government for their contributions to Jamaican culture. His passing represents a great loss.
Last night we went out for tunes. We started in the afternoon at O’Donoghue’s, a real famous place on Baggot St, where we had kind of a bad time (Gail in particular). It was impossible to hear, and the musicians made music that was very much geared to a particular kind of audience (one that Gail and I don’t have–or want–much experience with). We were asked to start a couple of sets. The first one went okay, but there were some crossed wired during the second one and it turned into kind of a train wreck. It happened at the right time, though, because we’d agreed to meet Padraig over at The Cobblestone and it was just about time to go when it happened. We hopped in a cab and made it over in short order and found Padraig playing with Seamus, Owen and a woman (whose name I can’t remember, other than that it begins with an “S”). It was nice and relaxed and they were all lovely players. Just what the doctor ordered. We were there for a couple of hours, and Padraig had to leave we went on over to The Duke. Eugene and Brian were back at The Duke again. They were joined by Darra and a banjo player named Colm Green. Colm was a real impressive player. (He won a senior All-Ireland in 1998.) Here’s what he sounds like (linked from a page on the Comhaltas site):
After the session he offered to have me over at his place for tunes, so this morning I called up and went by (not too too bad a walk from where we are). I ended up spending most of the afternoon there. We chatted for a long while about playing, played for a while (mostly, I listened) and talked about banjo styles in general while listening to a bunch of recordings. He has lots of constructive, principle-based ideas about banjo playing. Great stuff, actually…
…which calls to mind a story from Willie Week. On Friday I got hungry, so we stopped at a street chipper called “Great Stuff” and I ordered a fish and chips (it was great). After I’d ordered, a (very drunk) guy walked up and ordered a fried chicken sandwich. The guy turned around grabbed one that had literally come straight from the fryer. It wasn’t two seconds. The guy who’d ordered was surprised and had a “are you sure this hasn’t been sitting around for a while?” look on his face and said “wow, that was fast. Thank ye.” They chipper turned around and pointed to the logo on his shirt and said “that’s Great Stuff.”
