In the 1950s, a few young men, known as Badius, embarked on
a nearly 2,500-mile (4000 km) journey from the northern rural interior of Cabo
Verde’s Santiago Island to the island of São Tomé off the Atlantic coast of
central Africa. Incredibly, they made the arduous journey not to earn a better
living or send money back home — but to simply buy an accordion, locally known
as a gaita. They would work years in harsh conditions to earn enough to buy the
instrument and then a few more years to buy a ticket back to Santiago.
Returning home, they slowly formed an elite class of
self-taught gaita players, who achieved a status similar to the griots of West
Africa: venerated, wise elderly men archiving Badiu history in their diatonic
button accordions. The gaita became the maximum expression of Badiu identity,
one defined over centuries by a persistent culture of revolt and rebellion
against domination and injustice. In a land lacking electricity, the acoustic
instrument is king.
The gaita masters marriage to a hard-won instrument gave
birth to raw Funaná music, undoubtedly a trans-Atlantic sibling of Colombian
Cumbia. Hypnotic notes on aged accordions, tuned and flavored in ways found
nowhere but Santiago, became infused with inviting baselines, raucous rhythms,
blade-on-iron percussion and the bubbling lyricism and lament of the island’s
finest ambassadors, their lyrics spoke of the trials of daily scarcity and
playfully crafted whole metaphors within songs.
Their music was outlawed under colonial rule, with strict curfews
monitored by the ever watchful eye of Portugal’s secret police to prevent
gatherings since Funaná was dance music meant for large crowds, centered on one
of the many star gaiteiros. Yet, naturally defiant, Badiu Funaná continued
unfazed at the risk of arrest, detention, or worse.
Funaná remained an isolated style, largely an affair for
Badiu ears only. But in 1991, Cabo Verde had its first democratic election.
Elections are tricky business anywhere, let alone a state divided into several
islands, each needing a tailored approach. Political parties found a novel
solution, perhaps even a model, to successfully get their campaign messages out
to large audiences with ears wide open: music festivals. Until today, Cabo
Verde plays host to dozens of festivals a year, some sponsored by the
government.
The music of the proud African interior became the
soundtrack of choice at campaign rallies and music festivals. It drew large
crowds, engaged the youth, kept people content, and undoubtedly won votes,
setting the stage for traditional Funaná’s entry into the mainstream. But
professional production and recording remained elusive. Younger artists
empowered by the politically-backed proliferation of Funaná in the early ‘90s
began traveling inland to learn the trade secrets from the gaita griots, taking
up the once maligned artform to counter what they saw as global pop sounds
diluting Cabo Verdean output and preventing genuine local music from competing
on the airwaves.
Another revolt was afoot, and in 1997, an “earthquake shook
the country,” a Cabo Verdean newspaper wrote, when a group of youths, calling
themselves Ferro Gaita, “dared to make a disc based on the gaita, ferrinho and
bass guitar.” That best-selling first album — 40,000 copies in a country of
just 400,000 — changed the entire trajectory of the country’s music.
Ferro Gaita’s success caught the attention of affluent
producers based in Cabo Verde’s large European diaspora, namely Rotterdam.
Widespread sentiment was to honor the old gaita masters from the small villages
of Santiago by commercially publishing their work for the very first time,
giving what was once hidden the bigger stage it deserved.
This compilation curates eight tracks from a short period in
the late ‘90s when cherished pioneers, who risked everything to give their
proud culture a sound, were finally put in recording studios; an album in
itself a revolt in favor of the music of the most marginalized and once
deliberately silenced.
Pour yourself a grog, the Cabo Verdean moonshine distilled
from sugarcane crushed by bulls, imbibe responsibly, listen carefully, and
dance recklessly.
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