And the Roots of Rhythm Remain by Joe Boyd tells how musicians of African heritage shaped the music of Brazil, Jamaica, Argentina, and Cuba. And how 20th century musicians in Africa heard those familiar rhythms and transmuted them once again in creating Congolese rumba, highlife, afrobeat, mbalax, Malian blues, and Ethiopian jazz. This book changed how I listen to music, it deepened my appreciation of cultural influences across continents, and it gave me strength and inspiration during our current difficult period in world history. Let me tell you why you should read it!
The narrative begins in South Africa because Paul Simon’s 1986 album Graceland exemplifies African musical influence and provides the book’s title. The United Nations sanctioned Simon for breaking the anti-apartheid boycott by recording in South Africa. But within South Africa, he faced different criticism from anti-apartheid activists who objected to his emphasis on classic Zulu musical styles, since many African National Congress members were Xhosa and preferred what they saw as more modern musical styles.
It's not an accident Simon recorded with so many Zulu singers, given Zulu historical traditions:
“In a Zulu marriage, the bride price is often negotiated in song; at the wedding, the two families would try to out-harmonize each other. Before Shaka, war between clans was often averted by ngomas: song-filled competitive martial displays. Shaka himself would mark a victory by belting out a triumphant anthem with his generals in the home of the vanquished chief.” (p. 34)
But even as differences in musical taste reflected inter-tribal tensions, music advanced the anti-apartheid movement:
“On news broadcasts outside South Africa, police bullhorns and gunshots couldn’t drown out the glorious singing of the crowds…White policemen would later confirm how terrifying it was to confront huge crowds explaining in harmony and gesture how they planned to kill you.” (p. 58-59)
Every page contains sentences like these: vivid imagery, historical or cultural insights, or portraits of individual musicians, genres, or songs. The author is a legendary producer looking back on a long career; he is a character in many of the book’s stories, or else a scholar uncovering the origins of the music he loves.
Reading the book is a multimedia experience. Each morning, I’d listen to the artists I’d read about the previous night. As someone without a musical background, I had great conversations with more knowledgeable family and friends to try to understand basic concepts. I also had success learning from ChatGPT, such as the difference between rhythm and “the beat”.
Before reading this book, I almost exclusively listened to vocals. Now I try to pay more attention to the music, and I particularly seek polyrhythmic and syncopated songs, core elements of African musical traditions and their global influence.
In addition to learning general musical concepts, and particular genres and artists, this book satisfied my goal to continue learning about African history and culture. The vastness of the topic is probably why straightforward historical nonfiction rarely grabs me; I usually end up reading fiction to get a more engaging, partial view in. (Chronicles from the Land of the Happiest People on Earth by Wole Soyinka remains my favorite from the last five years—funny, bleak, and profound.)
And the Roots of Rhythm Remain is long, but it is no tome. Section breaks every two pages with colorful quotes from musicians and political figures keep it from ever feeling intimidating. It reminds me of another all-time favorite, 1493 by Charles C. Mann, in combining global scope with narrative sweep that emphasizes cross-continental connections—revealing a world that is both extraordinarily rich and surprisingly small.
Of everything I read and listened to, the chapter on Brazil and Brazilian music is my favorite. Samba was built on traditions enslaved Africans brought to Brazil. How its African elements were excised or restored in each successive wave of Brazilian popular music gives the chapter strong narrative momentum. The compilation albums Brazil Classics 1: Beleza Tropical and Brazil Classics 2: O Samba were my entry points into this “seductive, sensual, smart, well done, and intelligent” music (Gilberto Gil quoted in Boyd, p. 471). I also loved the chapter on Jamaican music, which introduced me to the band I’ve enjoyed most: Toots and the Maytals. And I thought the portrait of Fela Kuti masterfully presented the whole person: his genius and heroic aspects alongside his eccentricities and failings.
The book fulfills its subtitle of A Journey Through Global Music. I’ve focused on what I see as the primary thesis, but there are also excellent chapters on Roma music and its tremendous reach; on how Indian classical music affected US and UK popular music; and the resilience of musical expression against state control in Eastern Europe, focusing on Bulgarian, Russian, Jewish, and Hungarian music. One example of Roma impact was on Spanish vocal traditions—traditions that, when combined with African elements, would later shape the music of Cuba. I also learned that the Roma people originally came from Northern India, something I'd never known before.
Next for me is hearing some of the music celebrated in this book live. I live in Washington, DC, which has a large Ethiopian community. I imagine there must be some great places to hear Ethiopian Jazz, so I would very much appreciate knowledgeable readers sharing recommendations by posting a comment below.
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