3. Candomblé Ketu

Introduction:

Audio: Som da Massa, “Transcontinental Baião” 

SW: I’m Schuyler Whelden. 

JCV: And I’m Juliana Cantarelli Vita.

SW:  This is Massa, a podcast about Brazilian music and culture.

JCV: Schuyler and I are music professors and musicians. In each episode we dive into a specific genre, song, artist, or issue in Brazilian music to try to understand how it works and what it means.

SW: How are you today, Juliana?

JCV: Doing well! I’m excited to continue our discussion of the music of the Afro-Brazilian religion candomblé.

SW: Me too! For those that missed it, in the last episode we discussed candomblé’s origins and general belief structure. We also briefly touched on its continued importance in Brazilian popular music and how it plays a part in some Black Brazilians’ struggle for justice and equality.

JCV: And if you did miss it, at least you should know this: candomblé is the name for a number of Afro-Brazilian religions that survived with enslaved people who were brought to Brazil from West and Central Africa. In Brazil, various African religions blended and over centuries, these were codified into sets of beliefs and practices. These episodes focus on the strand of candomblé derived mainly from Yoruba belief systems.

SW: Since we went with an overview last time, I thought today we could start with some percussion instruments and rhythms that they play. How does that sound?

JCV: Sounds good to me.

SW: Just like last time, let’s start by listening to some recently recorded music that makes use of candomblé rhythms.

JCV: Let’s do it!

SW: This is the song “Padê Onã” performed by Kiko Dinucci e Bando Afro Macarrônico.

Audio: Kiko Dinucci e Bando Afro Macarrônico, “Padê Onã” (Spotify)

JCV: Aha. I think I know what you’re doing here…

SW: What do you mean?

JCV: Well, it’s not the topic of this episode, but candomblé ceremonies tend to worship the orixás, or deities, in a certain order. This is a song for the orixá called Exu, who is always worshipped first.

SW: You got me. I felt kind of guilty about opening our discussion of candomblé last time with Xangô, who is a different orixá, and I’m trying to make up for it by starting this one off right.

JCV: Works for me!

SW: We’ll talk about the lyrics and such a bit later in the episode, but for now, try to hold on to that opening sound…

JCV: Ah yes, those drums and that bell.

SW: Yes! Speaking of the bell, I want to share one more song, this is even newer. It starts with pretty similar drums, and, if you listen carefully you can hear that same bell sound about 30 seconds in, though it's playing a different rhythm. This is “Preta Yayá” by Xênia França…

Audio: Xênia França, “Preta Yayá” (Youtube) (Spotify)

JCV: I heard it! It sounds like this, right? 

SW: That’s the one! But I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s back up a bit and talk about the importance of these instruments and rhythms in candomblé worship. Then we can come back to these examples and dissect them a little closer. Okay?

JCV: Massa. So, last time we noted that in most terreiros—

SW: —that’s the place where candomblé worship happens—

JCV: —the musical ensemble has 3 drummers and a bell, though there can be variations.

SW: Right, so we thought today we could talk through the names of these instruments and discuss a bit more the roles that they play.

JCV: Because these drums differ in role, shape, and name depending on the specific lineage that informs them, let’s focus today on the most widely disseminated form of candomblé, called candomblé ketu.

SW: Yes, ketu is one of the nations—

JCV: —or nações—

SW: —of candomblé. Its origins are primarily Yoruba. And it is the kind of candomblé practice most common in the northeastern state of Bahia.

JCV: It’s fair to say that when we hear candomblé in popular music, it’s most frequently nação ketu.

Audio: Leaders and Members of the Ketu Cult, “Avaninha” (Youtube) (Spotify)

The Drums in Candomblé Ketu

SW: Should we start with the drums?

JCV: In candomblé ketu, you will usually hear three cylindrical drums called atabaques.

SW: This is the generic name for the kind of drum. You will also encounter these same drums in the music of capoeira and Bahian samba de roda. Atabaques have a single drum head, that is, an animal skin that is stretched across one of the openings. If you picture a conga drum, only a little narrower and of three distinct heights, you’ll have a sense of it.

JCV: And in performance, these drums are positioned upright, in matching wooden stands that secure the drums. They can either be played with the hands, with two sticks, or with one stick and one open hand, depending on the terreiro and the toque—

SW: —the toque is the rhythm associated with a particular orixá. The whole rhythm, including all the instruments. The ethnomusicologist Juan Diego Diaz calls it the “groove” associated with a particular orixá.

JCV: Last time we talked about the toque called alujá, which is associated with Xangô.

SW: In candomblé ketu, each of these drums has a name and a particular role in the ensemble. The largest drum is called rum

JCV: Spelled R-U-M, like the alcohol you use to make mojitos.

SW: But pronounced rum, like… well, I can’t think of anything!

JCV: In candomblé ketu, the rum is the master drum, the one that leads the ensemble.

Audio: Núcleo Artístico Xiré Yabá, “Aguerê (Rum's part)” (Youtube)

SW: the medium sized drum is called rumpi.

JCV: R-U-M-P-I.

SW: and the smallest is called lê.

JCV: L-E. The pitches of the drums correspond with their size. The rum is the lowest pitched and the lê is the highest one.

SW: The rumpi and the lê support the rum, adjusting their rhythms in response to what happens on the rum.

JCV: As we mentioned last time, the drummers are called alabês, though in some cases just the leader, the rum player has that name.

SW: Here’s what these drums sound like all together.

Baptism of the Drums

JCV: These drums are sacred instruments.

SW: It is through the drums that alabês develop axé.

JCV: And in case you forgot, axé is the life force or energy that flows through all things and connects the visible (or human) world and the invisible world of the orixás and ancestors.

SW: The rhythms that the drums play are a kind of speech surrogacy. They are how worshippers communicate with the orixás to develop axé.

JCV: Candomblé practitioners, then, respect the power of the drums and treat them accordingly.

SW: For special ceremonies, the drums are dressed in sacred cloths and when they aren’t being played, they are covered.

JCV: And, if that’s not proof enough of these instruments’ importance and power, they also go through a “baptism” when they are first constructed. This shows just how much effort, time, and care is put into the drums.

SW: According to Gerard Béhague, who did one of the earliest English language studies of the music of candomblé, the baptism is an important process in establishing and nourishing the drums’ “voices” so that they remain irresistible to the orixás.

JCV: All three drums in a set are constructed together and baptized together.

SW: During the baptism, the drums are left in a slanting position—

JCV: —which is different than their upright playing position—

SW: And the candomblecistas leave offerings in front of the drums, including animal blood; a sacred liquid made from herbs and plants; salt; honey; and palm oil, known as dendê.

JCV: These substances are all known to generate axé, hence their importance to the drums. The worshippers also sacrifice one feathered animal for each of the drums.

SW: The ceremony includes a song for Ogum, who is the orixá associated with metal tools. He needs to be invoked in order to use the sacrificial knife.

JCV: The drums are then sprinkled with the offerings, ending with the dendê and the head of the animal. 

SW: Finally, the worshippers vocalize for the orixá for whom the drums were baptized, which will differ depending on the specific terreiro.

JCV: That orixá then takes possession of the drums, establishing a direct connection between the instruments and the orixá.

SW: So, you see, these drums are more than just animal skin stretched across a wooden shell.

JCV: Yes, they are embedded with spiritual power.

SW: It really shows you how important the music is in candomblé if the drums are treated with such respect.

The Bell (Agogô or Gan)

JCV: It occurs to me that this ensemble—three drums, each playing a different rhythm, with a leader—is something that is relatively standard in traditional music practice in West Africa. 

SW: Yes, and the other instruments in the ensemble also seem to have a West African origin. As we mentioned last time, there is a bell, either a gan.

SW: Or an agogô.

JCV: The gan is typically wrought iron and the agogô industrially produced, so they have different sounds, but depending on the terreiro, you might find one or the other.

SW: The bell plays a timeline around which the other instrumentalists organize themselves.

JCV: Wait, what do you mean by that: “plays a timeline”?

SW: Good question. The term timeline was coined by the Ghanaian music scholar Kwabena Nketia to describe this way of organizing metrical time with a bell pattern. It’s a different way of conceptualizing rhythm than what we tend to find in European-derived musics.

JCV: So, in European-derived music, you would count, right? Like 1, 2, 3, 4...

SW: Exactly! There is a pulse—that’s what you were counting, and then you can subdivide from there. Each pulse might be divided in twos or threes… So it might be 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and. Or 1 and a 2 and a 3 and a 4 and a...

JCV: It relies on the fact that each pulse is the same duration, right?

SW: Yes. The bell pattern in West African music is not conceptualized like that. The durations of each note are not always equal. So, here is the bell pattern associated with the toque called ijexá.

SW: So if you were to count the durations, beginning on “1” each time the player strikes the bell, it would be 1, 1 2, 1 2, 1, 1 2, 1 2, 1 2, 1 2… Sure, it sounds a little silly when you count it out like that but it does give you a sense of how you could divide up this rhythm asymmetrically. Think about this, each hit as having its own duration.

JCV: What if you were to just count the 1 2 3 4 pulse from before?

SW: That would be 1 2 3 4 [with bell]

JCV: It sounds like it’s syncopated.

SW: Yes! Would you like to explain that, though?

JCV: Sure. Syncopation is when a rhythm emphasizes unexpected places in the rhythm cycle, often what are called “weak beats.”

SW: Yes! when we take a Eurocentric approach to music—

JCV: —which we’re trying not to do—

SW: we have a pulse, which represents strong beats, with the subdivisions in between being “weaker”.

SW: When a rhythm emphasizes in between the strong beats, it feels syncopated.

JCV: So, in West African music, the bell might not emphasize that pulse, the 1 2 3 4. Instead, it might divide the time cycle into some other, often asymmetrical, pattern, like the one you just played before?

SW: Precisely. 

JCV: And this matters because the very way of conceptualizing musical time is different, so the fact that candomblé has a bell that plays a timeline is further evidence of its African heritage.

SW: Yes, and even more than that, it’s so embedded in the music that, in a way, it teaches practitioners, teaches players, to conceptualize music differently, just as they participate in the music.

JCV: And thus offers a less Eurocentric approach to music making!

Rhythms

JCV: I think we’re ready to return to the rhythms that we heard at the top of the episode. Don't you think?

SW: Yes!

JCV: I remember that we asked everyone to listen for the bell, right?

SW: Indeed! Both of those songs feature bell patterns that are common in candomblé ketu. The first is the bell pattern associated with the toque called ijexá.

JCV: We heard that in the Kiko Dinucci song “Padê Onã.”

SW: That’s the one! Let’s hold off on talking about the lyrics of that song and zero in on that rhythm, shall we?

JCV: Yeah, Sounds good.

SW: Juan Diego Diaz has pointed out that in parts of Bahia the ijexá toque is very frequently associated with the orixá Oxum.

JCV: We’ll talk more about Oxum in the next episode, but for now, it might be useful to know that Oxum is a female orixá. She’s associated with fresh water. She is responsible for fertilizing the earth, and associated with maternity and young children.

SW: Let’s listen to a little bit of an ijexá for Oxum, here performed by the percussionist Jorge Alabê. 

JCV: listen for how the agogô is so consistent in playing the timeline, while the other instruments play off it. 

JCV: If you are listening with headphones, you can hear the lê in the right channel 

JCV: and the rumpi in the left channel. 

JCV: They come in one at a time and then stick to consistent patterns.

SW: In the center is the rum, which plays variations. 

Audio: Jorge Alabê, “Ijexá for Oxum” (Youtube) (Spotify)

SW: It might seem like improvisation, because it varies widely in terms of what it's playing, but these patterns are taught and learned in order to communicate with the orixás.

JCV: This example is sort of mid-tempo, not too intense. It reflects Oxum’s sweetness and beauty. It’s not hard to hear how the quality of the orixá is captured in the toque.

SW: No, it’s actually pretty evident. We should say that not every terreiro is going to play this exact toque this exact way. Because candomblé developed in pockets, some traditions diverge widely from others. And the ijexá bell pattern may sometimes accompany a toque for a different orixá altogether.

JCV: Speaking of which, maybe we should look again at “Padê Onã.”

SW: Right because “Padê Onã” is not about Oxum, but rather the orixá called Exu, who you mentioned is always worshipped first.

JCV: Yes, the worship sequence starts with Exu because he is the orixá associated with opening doors. The senhor da comunicação—

SW:—the lord of communication.

JCV: Yeah, and so practitioners start with Exu so that he will open the doors between the visible and invisible worlds. Some say that if you don’t praise him first, he will disrupt the ceremony.

SW: The word padê refers to the offering made to Exu at the start of the worship practice.

JCV: The first word of the song, laroyê, is the saudação, or words of praise, associated with Exu.

SW: Each stanza starts with this saudação, followed by some of Exu’s names.

JCV: Yes, there is Bará, then Eleguá, then Legbá.

SW: In the rest of the first stanza, the lyrics reference the primary function of Exu: “Abra o caminho dos passos / Abra o caminho do olhar / Abra caminho tranquilo para eu passar.”

JCV: “Open the walking path / Open the seeing path / Make it easy for me to pass.”

SW: It’s the request for Exu not to disturb the ensuing ceremony.

JCV: This is not a direct recreation of a toque or a song for Exu. It’s an interpretation.

SW: An amalgam of candomblé referents and other things.

JCV: For example, the title even has reference to the biblical figure Onã

SW: Known in English as Onan.

JCV: The use of this toque in this context brings up an interesting tension. These rhythms from candomblé are pervasive in Brazilian popular music, which some people criticize.

SW: Indeed, in his book Let’s Make Some Noise! the music scholar Clarence Bernard Henry has written that some candomblecistas, especially those from older generations, are worried about “the secularization and popularity of rhythms such as ijexá that in many ways are becoming ‘sonic’ symbols of Afro-Brazilian racial identity.” Specifically, the concern revolves around the abuse of sacred musical axé for financial gain in a way that might not please the orixás. Some younger musicians counter this view by pointing out that financial gain is a pragmatic necessity.

JCV: It’s so complicated, because it’s not really our place to judge. We are outsiders to candomblé and this is an argument happening within the candomblé community. Some people find that the promotion of candomblé values through popular music is a good thing. It can even contribute to the reparations never given to Black Brazilians by earning them money. And it’s completely understandable that some people would want to protect these sacred sounds. Because by bringing them into a popular/secular context, they can be misunderstood, misrepresented, and, above all, may irritate the orixás.

SW: Yeah, which is not something we are really in a position to decide.

JCV: Yeah. Should we talk about the other bell pattern that was featured at the top of the episode?

SW: Let’s! In case you’ve forgotten what it sounds like, you can hear it here in Xênia França’s “Preta Yayá.”

JCV: How about we single out that bell pattern so it’s clearly audible?

SW: Some of you out there might recognize this bell pattern. In West Africa, it’s so common that scholars have taken to calling it “the standard pattern.” I played it when I studied the music of the Ewe people of southeastern Ghana, but it’s also present in Cuba, where people call it bembé. And, of course, scholars have also noted the prevalence of this rhythm as a bell pattern in Yorubá music.

JCV: In candomblé de nação ketu, this rhythm is called vassi. Practitioners note that it’s characteristic of nação ketu and therefore serves as the basis for a number of different toques. 

SW: It has a slow and a fast version, similar to what you would encounter in Ghana, for example.

JCV: The slower version is sometimes used as the basis for toques for Exu.

Audio: Jorge Alabé, “Vassi for Exu” (Youtube) (Spotify)

SW: It makes sense that Exu would get the slower form, because he tends to be praised first, so his music comes before a lot of intensity is built up, musically.

JCV: It’s also used, in faster forms, to praise Xango.

Audio: Mestres Navegantes / Ilê Kaio Alaketu Axé Oxum, “Toque Alujá de Xangô” (Youtube)

JCV: And Ogum

Audio: Leaders and Members of the Ketu Cult, “Ogum” (Youtube) (Spotify)

SW: This is interesting, because both Xangô and Ogum are traditionally masculine orixás, who are warriors. Xangô is about justice, of course, but he’s also in charge of thunder for example. And Ogum, as we know, is in charge of forged metal, which would presumably include weapons.

JCV: Why is it interesting?

SW: Well, among the Ewe, this rhythm accompanies music called agbekor, which traditionally was music that prepared warriors for battle.

JCV: Oh wow, so this rhythm might have some element of militance in it.

SW: I’m making a pretty loose connection here based on my limited knowledge, but it’s interesting to find these connections.

JCV: Hopefully, in a later episode, we can bring a true expert in to parse the specificities.

SW: Yeah, let’s do that!

JCV: What can we say about the vassi’s rhythmic properties?

SW: The classic version—and of course there will be varieties—has seven hits spread out over twelve pulses. Explaining it gets kind of tricky.

JCV: Why so? 

SW: Well, even more than our discussion of the bell pattern in ijexá, the vassi really challenges a Eurocentric conception of strong and weak pulses.

JCV: Talk us through that.

SW: So there are twelve pulses, right? Twelve is divisible by 3, 4, and 6, so you could imagine a version of vassi where the main pulse happened 3 times, 4 times, or 6 times.

JCV: Show me.

SW: Here’s what it sounds like with 3 pulses per cycle.

SW: Here’s what it sounds like with 4.

SW: And this is six. 

SW: Do you hear how different they are?

JCV: Yes, they feel completely different. Which one is correct?

SW: All of them. None of them.

JCV: What?

SW: Well, they’re all there at the same time, but none of them are necessarily dominant. The rhythms that the players put on top might imply or emphasize different aspects at different moments.

JCV: So, if we were to impose a Eurocentric notion of a pulse…

SW: It would hierarchize those different feels and leave our conception of the rhythm basically incomplete.

JCV: I think I can show some examples of this in our next episode when we talk about candomblé from my hometown of Recife.

SW: Great!

JCV: Let’s hear this rhythm again in “Preta Yayá.” I want to see something.

JCV: This seems to be implying a four pulse feel.

SW: It definitely is.

SW: Because this song is mixing the vassi on the bell and the rhythm of the atabaques with a pop backbeat.

JCV: Right, so this is transformed into a popular song so it takes on characteristics of pop music, like the 4 count.

SW: On one hand it shows the flexibility of these rhythms to be adapted to popular music. On the other hand it shows the limits of doing that, because popular music introduces different structures.

JCV: The lyrics of this song also refer less to candomblé.

SW: What’s going on there?

JCV: It’s not clear until the last line, but the song seems to be sung about and to Black musical practice, which she calls both “música preta”—

SW: —literally, Black music—

JCV: —and “preta yayá.”

SW: With yayá being a term of respect for elder women in Yoruba.

JCV: It seems to have the same root as ialorixá and iakekere, two terms we discussed in the last episode that refer to the priestess in the candomblé terreiro.

SW: Okay, so if Black music, Afro-Brazilian music, is being praised (in feminine form, because música is a feminine word in Portuguese), what else does Xênia França have to say about it?

JCV: First she sings, “Ela vai te seduzir, lhe tirar para dançar.”

SW: “She is going to seduce you and make you dance.” Pretty standard music stuff.

JCV: Right. But a couple of lines later, she sings “Tem vocação para misturar, força para transcender.”

SW: "She has the calling to mix, the force to transcend." Whoa, I think she’s talking about exactly what we said before, about mixing candomblé. Black music has the power to transcend and mix!

JCV: That seems to be the case.

SW: Interesting, so this song is making the case for this kind of mixture of candomblé and popular music.

JCV: There’s something else, too. Check out the last line: “Música preta, sou teu instrumento, vim pra te servir.”

SW: “Black music, I’m your instrument. I’ve come to serve you.” Oh, I see.

JCV: She’s almost speaking to Black music, to Afro-Brazilian music, like an initiate would speak to an orixá.

SW: Wow, that’s so interesting. I don’t know if those connections would be even the slightest bit legible if they weren’t contextualized with the atabaque and the gan playing the vassi.

Conclusion

JCV: Yeah. Well, that is certainly a lot to think about.

SW: Yes, it’s very complicated how these rhythms have penetrated Brazilian popular music. I’m really struck by Xênia França’s comments on the power of Afro-Brazilian music for mixture and transcendence.

JCV: It also brings up the issue of these sacred rhythms and how they have transcended over time.

SW: Right, the people who kept these rhythms going over centuries of enslavement and oppression. It’s incredible.

JCV: Of course, people will ask whether the rhythms are exactly the same as those that arrived in Brazil with enslaved people.

SW: From a technical standpoint, almost certainly not.

JCV: Though, the vassi seems like a candidate for preservation over time.

SW: Yes! But as far as the corpus of rhythms that make up candomblé ketu practice, scholars like Larry Crook, and others, have indicated that Brazilian drummers and worshippers have almost certainly changed these rhythms over time.

JCV: But they are derived from rhythms that had specific meanings and uses. And there is no reason to believe that they haven’t been able to hold onto their sacred power even in those changes.

SW: Makes you wonder if they can hold onto them in popular music context.

JCV: It does! It really does...

SW: Before we go, I’m finding myself a bit confused by all of the orixás that have come up over these two episodes.

JCV: Maybe we could go through a few of them and their qualities, try to understand how a specific terreiro worships them in a sequence?

SW: I’d love that. Next time?

JCV: Next time!

SW: Well, thanks so much, Juliana! I really enjoyed this.

JCV: Thank you Schuyler! I learned a lot! See you soon.

SW: Esse foi massa.

Credits

Audio: Sammy Bananas, “Transcontinental Baião (Carioca Remix)”

Massa is written, produced and edited by Schuyler Whelden and me, Juliana Cantarelli Vita. For episode transcriptions and links, please visit our website, essefoimassa.com. That’s E-S-S-E-F-O-I-M-A-S-S-A dot com. You can email us at essefoimassa@gmail.com. Our intro music is by Som da Massa and our outro music is by Sammy Bananas. Please join us in two weeks for our third episode on candomblé, when we will talk through some of the more common orixás and the worship sequence called xirê. Until then, esse foi massa. 

Photo: "Conselho de Omolu" by Nelson Oliveira