Watina

Belize’s Andy Palacio grew up hearing songs, rhythms and stories that go back to a fateful cohabitation of shipwrecked African slaves and Carib and Arawak Indians on the island of St Vincent in the 17^th century.  The descendants of that union are the Garifuna, a distinct Central American ethnic group whose worldwide diaspora today numbers around a-quarter million people.  Garifuna folklore was so uncool as to be endangered when Palacio began working its language, melodies and rhythms in to his “punta rock” sound back in the ‘80s.  Punta rock’s commercial success on the local scene, coupled with the rise of world music, has meant more hopeful days for Garifuna music.  Belize’s Stonetree Record label has produced some very appealing Garifuna releases, notably Aurelio Martinez’s Garifuna Soul in 2005.  But this collection of new and old songs performed by different generations of Garifuna artists marks a new high water mark for the genre. 

The song “Watina” launches the session in a punchy, sensuous, acoustic-string-laced groove with a searing, soulful refrain.  Palacio’s scratchy lead voice sings in the Garifuna language, “I called out” as from the roadside of a hard, downtrodden life.  There’s a Marleyesque cry at one point, not the only echo of roots reggae in this album’s tastefully hip production.  Track after track, the sounds are understated, from the chime of strummed strings to the piquant melodiousness of clean electric guitar leads, but the grooves and the emotions they convey are fierce and trenchant.  Another standout along these lines is the hook-laden “Miami,” a lively paranda rhythm with lyrics decrying the way development is excluding the Garifuna from their ancestral lands.  Some songs, like “Weyu Larigi Weyu (Day by Day)” draw on sacred rhythms, in this case hüngü hüngü.  Whether a prayer for blessings in this life, or a contemplation of the afterlife, these songs stand apart in wistful contemplation of the divine. 

“Beiba (Go Away)” uses percussion-laden, one-chord Garifuna funk to scold a drunken husband.  “Sin Precio (Worthless),” is a spare ballad, sung partly in Spanish, the lament of a poor mother.  And in the most affectingly folksy of these 12 songs, “Ayu Da (Goodbye, My Dear),” septuagenarian vocalist Paul Nabor recalls his boyhood trauma of having to inform a mother that her son was lost to the sea during a fishing expedition.  .  The session ends with sweet trepidation about the future of Garifuna culture, but if Garifuna musicians continue to produce music as fresh-sounding and sincerely affecting as this landmark release, that future may not be so bleak after all. 

Contributed by: Banning Eyre for www.afropop.org