Exuma, Joe

I guess Halloween playlists have been a thing for a while. This is my assumption based on the number of generic examples one can find if they visit their closest algorithmic music streaming service. But this year is the first time the idea of "Halloween music" has been codified within my own household. I'm not too upset, since the kids are putting it together themselves, piece by piece, and that happens by asking "Daddy, can you add [insert song] onto the Halloween playlist?" and me manually going into the old iPod that they use and uploading said song from my computer. No algorithms, basically. But I think that they are getting the idea of what exactly is Halloween music from the already established norms of the music marketing industry that is slowing gathering steam in their attempts to market "Halloween music" in the same way that they market "Christmas music," i.e. that there are certain indicators that indelibly mark something as "Halloween music," even if the song itself was never intended to be so in its creation period. These indicators are usually thematic. For example, a song like "Werewolves of London" is supposedly a Halloween song now. Why? Because it's about werewolves. It's not actually about werewolves (what it's actually about is besides the point in this paragraph), but there's the word. Werewolves. It's a Halloween song. Sits comfortably next to "Monster Mash" by Bobby "Boris" Pickett and the Crypt-Kickers now on my kids' classic iPod.

According to the generally agreed upon criteria as our 21st century holiday-as-commercialism society has cemented it, "Exuma, the Obeah Man" would be a Halloween song. That is because the song begins with a wolf howling. "Mama Loi, Papa Loi" is a Halloween song too. It mentions zombies, you see. That's enough to get it on the playlist. Now, would my kids question their inclusion on the playlist if I put these songs on there without warning her first? Of course. I'm speaking academically on the subject of Halloween songs, but my eight-year-old doesn't give a fuck about any of that. She was giving me shit about adding "She Wolf" by Shakira, even though there is a direct path to entry for the kids on that one (Shakira sang the main song from both Zootopia films) in addition to the subject matter undeniable branding it as Halloween related. And I don't like the idea of "Halloween playlists" being a thing either, mind you. I'm just mentioning all of this because I've suffered through a few weeks of "This Is Halloween" by the townsfolk of Halloween Town and "Ghostbusters" by Ray Parker Jr. (they are unfortunately still too young for the Vargskelethor version) and now I'm listening to Exuma and this is—coincidentally, but still—definitely feeling like a breath of fresh air, as far as "Halloween music" goes.

It's borderline insulting to describe this album as such, I'm mostly being facetious to make the point about Halloween music. But I also can't deny that it's fitting, for the season. The hesitation comes from the fact that, culturally speaking, Exuma's music was deeply personal and specific, and the insulting thing to do would be to retrofit it to someone else's culture, i.e. our crass bullshit consumerism culture where all arts and entertainment are crowbarred into whatever season we're in now to sell more trinkets. I think the word I'm looking for is "authentic." That's the word I would use to describe Exuma. And there's something deeply inauthentic about saying "oh well there's a wolf howling at the beginning of this album, don't you want to listen to it now, here, deep in the spooky month of October?"

Especially because Exuma himself, a.k.a. Tony McKay (though he specifically explains in the lyrics that, on this album, he is not Tony McKay, he is Exuma, the Obeah Man), was pretty firm about this not being your garden-variety "voodoo man" bullshit, whatever white Americans have in their head about that subject. Like, he's begging you to not picture Keith David as Dr. Facilier in The Princess and the Frog. This is a musician who is playing up the angle of "this is my culture, this is where I live," which bends more toward, like, religious beliefs than mystical powers. It's rooted in cultural tradition—emancipated slaves who emigrated to (e.g.) the Bahamas would celebrate freedom around Christmastime (i will fucking kill you if you attempt to call this music christmas music), using chanting and upbeat rhythms and a whole bunch of percussion instruments. This music is rooted in tradition. Attempting to shoehorn this particular sound into our tradition of asking neighbors for candy is bullshit, fucking bullshit.

But that was my first thought, so what can ya do. I'm infected with the same virus you are.

It's authentic, though, I think that's what I really wanted to say. It's probably one of the most authentic albums we've ever listened to in this Record Club. There is no pretense here, no indication that it was done for any reason other than Exuma the artist speaking his truth as a human being and as a Bahamian. There was a lot of discussion about "authenticity" as this most recent book club, vis-à-vis Springsteen being "authentic" on Nebraska, and that authenticity becoming the album's value. It depends on how you look at it. Is it authentic when an artist hides behinds the characters created within that artistry? If so, Nebraska is inauthentic... but then is Exuma as well? Because Tony McKay created a character who is not real but through him what's real is spoken. It's all up to interpretation, sure. Ultimately, I'm defining "authenticity" as "a means to get to the truth," and so I would say that Exuma (and Nebraska, yes) is authentic.

I will also admit that I usually jump right to the "authentic" description when I'm learning something new, so you should take all this with a grain of salt. Exuma is my one and only entry into Bahamas music and Junkanoo, so I have no choice but to believe it's authentic. I have nothing and no one else telling me differently. I hear a slide whistle at the end of "Exuma, the Obeah Man," I hear the jumble of percussion instruments on "Junkanoo" and think that it sounds like a parade, because that's what I'm told is the tradition here and who the fuck am I to say otherwise? I hear the psychedelic mania of "Seance in the Sixth Fret" and have no other option, I must believe that this is authentically Exuma, attempting to heal the audience through words and sounds, the gong signaling the point of change.

I need to believe this, but why shouldn't I? What's the point of disbelieving? I'm not talking about my lifestyle here, I'm talking about listening to music, and attempting to hear truth from an artist. There is no risk in believing Exuma. There is no liability in choosing to view the art as authentic. I listen because it makes me feel good, to hear it, to hear what I believe is truth.

That's probably why I hate the Halloween playlist phenomenon. There is no attempt at finding deeper truths there. It's simply an attempt to move more bags of candy off the shelves. If I want to feel in tune with the spirits that supposedly haunt this month on the calendar, then there's one album I'm comfortable listening to now.

GRADE: 4 pukes out of 5