Jousts & Battles

On Sundays in New Orleans, families and friends
come together for picnics on the banks of Lake Pontchartrain.
They eat, drink and make merry, of course, but above all they
come to play, listen and dance to the sounds of the countless
bands that spill out for the occasion from the clubs, bars,
restaurants and brothels south of Canal Street…

In the Roaring Twenties, black and white bands did not
mix. Every skin color had its own space, with boundaries that
were invisible yet known to all. And it was over the waters
that musical notes mingled, faced off and broke against one
another.
Broke? Yes indeed, for one had to play long and hard to
make oneself heard, to gain respect and silence the
competition… yet from time to time a tune would be started,
to then be taken up, shared and developed from one side of
the lake to the other; the groove would settle in, the voodoo
would cast its spells, and blacks and whites, separate yet
united, would dance, dance, dance…

Jean Christophe Servant Rimbaud

Translated from the French by C. Hinton

Joutes & Battles

À La Nouvelle Orléans, le dimanche, les familles, les
amis se retrouvent autour du lac Pontchartrain, pour des
pique nique où l’on mange, boit et discute bien sûr, mais
surtout où l’on joue, écoute et danse au son des
innombrables bands qui sortent tout exprès des clubs, bars,
restaurants et maisons closes du sud de Canal Street...

Dans ces roaring twenties, les orchestres de blancs
et de noirs ne se mélangent pas. Chaque couleur de peau à
ses espaces propres, aux frontières spatiales invisibles mais
connues de tous. Et c’est au-dessus des eaux que les notes
se confrontent, s’affrontent, se brisent les unes contre les
autres.
Se brisent ? Certes, car il faut jouer fort et dur pour se faire
entendre, et être bon pour se faire respecter et obtenir le
silence des compétiteurs… mais parfois, un thème est lancé,
repris, partagé, enrichi d’une rive à l’autre, le groove
s’installe, le vaudou lance ses envoûtements, et blancs et
noirs, unis autant que séparés, dansent, dansent, dansent...

Jean Christophe Servant Rimbaud