Wednesday, April 7, 2010

A journey of 1000 miles

What does the Big Chief say? Jockamo Fee Na Nay


I'm not quite sure why "Jockamo fee na nay" wants to stick to me but it does. Yes I'm an old Dead Head and I always loved Aiko Aiko but there are lot of other Dead tunes I still turn up: Sugar Mags, Jack Straw, Sugaree, Brown Eyed Women, etc. But there is something magical about Aiko. A happy beat. A dance tune. A celebration. A spiritual ditty. Mardi Gras music. It likes to kick my melancholy over and over the past few years. Yeah, years! Weird! I know.



I think it also has to do with my heritage. My Grandparents on my father's side were French Canadian. They both spoke french. Or at least that's what they called it. My Grandmother used to speak to me in Canadian French and I could hardly understand a word she said and I am fluent in French, Parisian French. A different language. New Orleans French/Cajun French is actually quite similar to country Canadian French. It's old French. Preserved for 200 years by a vast ocean and thousands of miles of wilderness. Along comes the 20th century and everything starts to blend and the old way starts to fade away.


So I hear a song and feel a calling. Not to preserve the old way but to weave some of it into our hurried wired lives. I crave the calm of the farm and the foundations of our music. There is wisdom of the ages preserved in those notes. An oral tradition of sorts. We have to open our hearts to hear their stories and learn the lessons that are learned over and over by each generation. History does repeat itself unfortunately, and only because we are too ignorant to listen to what our elders try to tell us. They knew it all along. They lived it once before.


My Mother's side of the family is Irish. And I'm from Chicago. A very Irish city. And even though I identify more strongly with my French side I have more exposure to my Irish heritage. Irish music in particular. I love it. A fiddle and a guitar. A squeezbox, tin whistle, bodhran. I'm down with that. I will seek it out and relish its soul. Its like the blues (more Chicago influence). A tortured and wearied past expressed in song. Ironically, country Canadian music, particularly in Quebec is heavily influenced by Celtic rhythms and instruments. There is a strong tradition of fiddle playing in Quebec and while the lyrics are in French and the stories are Canadian the musical accompaniment is clearly Irish. Apparently a lot of Irish immigrants moved to Quebec too.


Hmmm... Aiko Aiko on me. French roots without the Celtic influence? Perhaps. Something old and historic but new and refreshing to my ears.


There is one more angle on this whole thing. It is the Native American influence. I've done some research and I'm going to publish the best explanation I have of Jockamo fee na nay next. I don't think anybody really knows what it means but there seems to be some evolution from native Louisiana tribes preparing for Carnival and the taunting and teasing they played with each other leading up to the Mardi Gras celebration. I was actually born on a Cheyenne Indian Reservation in South Dakota. Lived there for two and a half years. My father was an Army doctor stationed on the Res. He delivered me. I have no Native American blood but they are in me. I can feel it. My spirituality and connection to the earth must come from them. Where else? I'm a city kid!



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