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Center for Black Music Research Columbia College Chicago

Mass Culture, Commodification, and the Consolidation of the Afro-Peruvian "Festejo"

Author(s): Javier F. LenSource: Black Music Research Journal, Vol. 26, No. 2 (Fall, 2006), pp. 213-247Published by: Center for Black Music Research - Columbia College Chicago and Universityof Illinois PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/25433774Accessed: 14-04-2016 10:39 UTC

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mass Culture, Commodification, and the

consolidation of the afro-peruvian festejo

JAVIER E LE?N

There are two souls that exist in the contemporary world, those

of revolution and decadence. . . . [T]he consciousness of the

artist is the agonizing circus of struggle between the two spir

its. An understanding of this struggle sometimes, most of the

time, escapes the very artist. But ultimately one of the two spir

its prevails. The other ends strangled in the sand.

?Jos? Carlos Mari?tegui (1981)

There is a familiar pattern characteristic of some discussions about

popular music in Latin America. Initially, musical practices associated

with one particular group or local community undergo a process of "dis

covery" and subsequent canonization as part of the symbolic imagery of

one or more emerging group identity projects. The relative success of this

endeavor is often predicated on the ability to promote this music among

wider audiences, thus leading to its entanglement with the mass media

and mass-market interests, as well as with institutions or groups of indi

viduals who seek to impose particular stylistic, aesthetic, and performa

tive standards in order to maintain a monopoly over its means of pro

duction. Such a process has led to two contrasting yet consistently

iterated assessments. More often than not, practitioners, audiences, crit

ics, and musicologists conclude that such commodification and institu

tionalization leads to creative stagnation and that, as social, political, and

economic circumstances change, this genre loses its ability to engage with

JAVIER F. LE?N received his master's degree and doctorate in ethnomusicology from the

University of Texas at Austin. He is currently an assistant professor of ethnomusicology at

Tulane University, where he teaches in the Newcomb Department of Music and The Stone

Center for Latin American Studies. His research focuses on contemporary Afro-Peruvian

music making and on criollo popular music and nationalism in the early and mid-twenti

eth century Lima. Leon's work has been published in Ethnomusicology Forum, Latin American

Music Review, and Selected Reports in Ethnomusicology.

213


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audiences in meaningful ways, thus bringing about its untimely demise

or a nostalgic longing for a former golden age. See, for example, discus

sions regarding the commodification of salsa (Katz 2005), the national

ization of local musical genres such as the merengue (Austerlitz 1997)

Afro-Cuban traditions (Moore 1997), and Colombian m?sica tropical

(Wade 2000) or the mainstreaming of popular genres such as bachata

(Pacini Hern?ndez 1995) or the Brazilian choro (Livingston-Isenhour and

Caracas Garcia 2005), among many others. Other scholars, practitioners,

and listeners suggest that mass distribution is not necessarily bad. Some

even suggest that an embrace of consumer culture, particularly of the

transnational kind, can provide individuals with new sources for identi

ty formation that resist the local dominant hegemony. Such is the case

with discussions concerning salsa as a source of pan-Latino or transna

tional identity (Aparicio 1995; Arias Satiz?bal 2002; Berr?os-Miranda

2003; Hosokawa 2002), or the resistive and transgressive power of rock

(Pacini Hern?ndez, Fern?ndez L'Hoeste, and Zolov 2004; Zolov 1999),

rap (Giovannetti 2003), tropicalia (Dunn 2001), and various types of

Caribbean and Caribbean-influenced popular genres (Lipsitz 1994).

This is not to suggest that these authors, or others who have undertak

en similar topics in Latin America and elsewhere, have simply endorsed

particular ways of envisioning the relationship between music and mass

culture. In most cases, these studies seek to problematize various aspects

of this relationship and bring to Ught those counter-hegemonic tenden

cies that at times can, at least temporarily, upset the status quo. Frances

Aparicio (1995, 244), for example, wrestles with the polarizing ideas of

the hegemonic and the resistive, providing pointed critiques regarding

various distortions and appropriations of salsa by different social, ethnic,

and gendered groups, in the end suggesting that "women, as consumers

of popular music, are active subjects in their role as Usteners, rather than

the passive consumers that industries perhaps expect them to be.

Consumption then, cannot be seen exclusively as a unidirectional process

of subordination but rather as a cultural practice in which individuals,

groups and institutions negotiate cultural identity and social, class, and

racial meanings, as well as naturalizing or contesting gendered rela

tions." This dialectic between homogenizing or attenuating tendencies of

mass culture and the possibiUty of countering those tendencies by active

ly embracing consumerism has been a hallmark of popular music studies

for a number of decades. The various positions and proposed alternatives

concerning this issue can generaUy be traced back to an unresolved

debate between ideas regarding the generally negative influences that

mass culture can have on music as a meaningful art form as introduced

by Frankfurt scholars like Theodor Adorno (1995a, 1995b, 1997, 1998a,


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Le?n Mass Culture and Festejo

215

1998b) and Herbert Marcuse (1998) and the counterargument proposed

by Walter Benjamin (1969,1986) that suggests that artistic production in

a mass culture context, while not necessarily aspiring to the type of artis

tic autonomy that Adorno considers essential, can have its own type of

resistive or critical character precisely because it is accessible to the mass

es. Regrettably, the polarization of these positions has often meant that

discussions about musical style focus on confirming or contesting a par

ticular position rather than problematize them.

In Peru, especially, one sees this pattern in discussions about the dif

ferent types of popular music found in Lima and their relationship to the

mass media. In the case of popular musics connected to the experiences

of Andean migrants in Lima and their children, mass media's role has

been considered generally beneficial, often aiding the diffusion of popu

lar genres and helping to bolster identity among those who, until recent

ly, have been seen as marginal despite their large numbers and socioeco

nomic influence (Alfaro 1990; Hurtado Su?rez 1995; Llor?ns 1983, 1991;

Romero 1992,2001,2002; Turino 1988,1990). In contrast, musics that have

been historically perceived as belonging to Lima's locality or surround

ing coastal region are generally regarded by their practitioners and critics

as having entered into a bargain with the mass culture devil, having trad

ed away, in classic Adornian fashion, their autonomy, individuality, and

originality (in short, their "authenticity") for the promise of financial suc

cess and recognition (Feldman 2001; Le?n 1997; Llor?ns 1983; Romero

1994; C. Santa Cruz 1989; Tompkins 1981; V?zquez 1982).1

The bifurcation between the fates of coastal and Andean popular

musics in Lima is perhaps most pronounced in Jos? Antonio Llor?ns's

(1983) two-part study on Peruvian popular music. In the section devoted

to criollo music, he concludes that the diffusion of criollo popular music2

through the mass media led to the homogenization of individual neigh

1. This is not to say that all of these writers agree with this particular assessment. In some

cases, for example, Llor?ns, Santa Cruz, Tompkins, and Vasquez, the authors' positions sug

gest that they consider the commodification of these musical practices far from a positive

step. In others, as with Feldman, Le?n, and Romero, the issue is less about taking a defini

tive stance in favor or against the role of the mass media and more centered around the way

in which that process of commodification is perceived by its practitioners, many of whom

would agree with Llor?ns, Santa Cruz, Tompkins, and V?squez.

2. The term criollo is generally used to denote Lime?os who are primarily of European

descent. In a musical setting, it also refers to musical practices that first originated in Lima's

working-class communities at the turn of the twentieth century. While these communities

were somewhat ethnically heterogeneous and included a sizable Afro-Peruvian minority

that greatly contributed to the development of this type of popular music, criollo music

exhibits a strong connection to European popular forms such as waltzes, mazurkas, and

polkas. The term is also used somewhat disparagingly by members of the upper classes in

reference to the so-called bohemian spirit and behavior that is stereotypically associated

with the lower classes.


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borhood styles, as well as the appropriation of this music for nationalist

purposes by the middle and upper sectors of Lime?o society, a process

that markedly altered its working-class spirit and its context of perfor

mance. Conversely, Llor?ns's discussion of Andean music suggests that,

while radio broadcasts and the local recording industry may have con

tributed to some homogenization along regional lines, the mass media?

through regional folklore radio programs, fan clubs of particular artists,

and migrant regional associations?helped Andean musicians create a

space on the airwaves that allowed Andean migrants in urban environ

ments such as Lima to connect with their regional identities. More recent

studies on urban popular music of Andean origin, for example, chicha

(Hurtado Su?rez 1995; Romero 2002), mention musical style as a means

of providing examples of, and by extension, vaUdating the presence of,

non-Andean musical elements (e.g., Colombian, Caribbean, rock) as

markers of creativity and ingenuity rather than as agents of global

homogenization or cultural dilution. Other studies echo similar posi

tions, most often legitimizing the notion that for local musics, such as the

vals criollo, the mass media have been instruments of the upper-middle

class capitalist and nationalist hegemony, whereas for migrant and sec

ond-generation Andean popular musics, like the huayno, chicha, or techno

cumbia, they have been a counter-hegemonic force that helped open up an

informal socioeconomic space that challenged the capitalist and national

ist hegemony.

These approaches have been useful in understanding how different

social groups in the twentieth century belonged to different historical and

cultural backgrounds and occupied different positions with the Lime?o

social hierarchy. At the same time, however, they have tended to natural

ize the role of the mass media, making it difficult to deviate from what

seems like an increasingly familiar script. Recently, however, Ra?l

Romero (2002) has indirectly brought this trope into question when

addressing the mainstream appeal of techno-cumbia, the most recent incar

nation of the popular music associated with recent ?migr?s to Lima.

Romero's discussion regarding techno-cumbia's popularity among various

sectors of Peruvian society, not just the historically marginalized commu

nity of "new Lime?os," reveals an unresolved tension between commod

ifying and counter-hegemonic tendencies so that techno-cumbia can be

seen both as the triumph of the subaltern and as the homogenization of

the same by transnational musical trends. This kind of ambivalence has

recently been associated with changes brought about by the "globaliza

tion era" and the degree to which different schools of thought continue to

debate "the celebration of global currents, on the one hand, and the criti

cism of its homogenizing trends" (Romero 2002, 218). These dual con


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cerns can also be extended to other forms of popular music in Peru, some

thing that has the potential to provide a more nuanced and detailed

examination of the relationship between these musics and the mass

m edia.

I seek here to go beyond the continued affirmation of the above-men

tioned patterns by focusing on the relationship between the increased

mass mediation of Afro-Peruvian music during the second part of the

twentieth century and perceived changes regarding its musical style.

Rather than assuming that style is a by-product or reflection of what hap

pens to a popular music genre, for better or worse, when it undergoes a

process of mass distribution and promotion, I suggest that musical style

is the symbolic battleground within which performers work out their

perceived relationships to the music that they perform, as well as to the

mass-mediated musical environment in which it is performed. In this

sense, I agree with Jos? Carlos Mari?tegui (1981) and posit that style is

one of the musical manifestations of that struggle between what he terms

the revolutionary (i.e., resistive) and the decadent (i.e., hegemonic). At

the same time, however, I challenge the notion that these two tendencies

are mutually exclusive and that musicians have little understanding of

the dynamics involved in this negotiation. This is a fluid and actively

contested space, rather than one in which assumptions made about the

nature of mass culture and its ability either to empower or to compromise

music-making leads to largely predetermined outcomes.

Afro-Peruvian music provides a particularly useful case study with

which to reevaluate some of the assumptions regarding the relationship

between popular music and the mass media in Peru since it does not eas

ily fit within the framework of the criollo-mestizo dichotomy. To most

practitioners, audiences, and researchers, Afro-Peruvian music has had a

similar relationship to the mass media as has criollo music. This is per

haps not surprising given the historical relationship between both musi

cal traditions and the fact that both are seen as being regionally, cultural

ly, and aesthetically in opposition to mestizo and indigenous practices

from the highlands. At the same time, however, Afro-Peruvian music has

had to carve a space for itself within the realm of coastal music; although

not as often acknowledged, its relationship with mass media has played

a key role in the consolidation, acceptance, dissemination, and endurance

of Afro-Peruvian musical practices. Recently, Afro-Peruvian musicians

have come to question whether their relationship to mass media has been

a positive or negative force in the contemporary development of Afro

Peruvian music. The debate most often references the stylistic trajectory

of one particular genre: the festejo. I discuss here how different approach

es toward the performance of the festejo over the last decade are tied to


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the ways in which musicians evaluated perceived positive and negative

developments in the genre over the second half of the twentieth century.

I first give some background on the popularization of Afro-Peruvian

music through the Lime?o mass media and the reasons the festejo has

assumed such a central place in debates regarding commodification. I

then focus on the stylistic transformations that led to the progressive

standardization of the genre in the 1970s. FinaUy, I turn to recent changes

in the festejo and how the lens through which different musicians inter

pret these past developments leads to different assessments regarding the

relationship the festejo and, by extension, all of Afro-Peruvian music, has

with mass media.

The Festejo and the Lime?o Popular Culture

To most Lime?os, the festejo is a music and dance genre characterized

by a brisk compound-duple rhythmic accompaniment, festive song

lyrics, displays of percussive virtuosity, and lively choreography. While

the roots of the genre date back at least to the nineteenth century, much

of its contemporary character and the general perception that the festejo

embodies the irrepressible joy of the Afro-Peruvian community even in

times of hardship, is related to its development during the second part of

the twentieth century. As one of the two main genre complexes or fami

lies that emerged out of the reconstruction and revival of Afro-Peruvian

music and dance in the late 1950s and early 1960s?the other one being

the lando ?zamacueca complex?the festejo's stylistic makeover paralleled

social, ideological, and economic changes that affected the context of

Afro-Peruvian performance as it moved from a family- or community

based environment to the professional stage. Early in the 1970s, aided by

governmental populist cultural policies that were friendly to local per

formers, the support of prominent individuals in Lima's financial and

musical community, and subsidies by public and private performing arts

organizations, some of the more prominent performers began to set the

standard for those musical practices that would from that point be iden

tified as Afro-Peruvian folklore.

The popularity of Afro-Peruvian music on the professional stage led to

recording contracts that in turn helped introduce and disseminate this

sound to appreciative non-Afro-Peruvian audiences. What began as a

success story, however, appears to have quickly careened out of control.

In retrospect, many professional musicians and critics have concluded

that an overenthusiastic and unreflexive embrace of both mass media

capitalism and institutionalized teaching and performance led to the

commodification of this genre and other forms of Afro-Peruvian music.


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Performance opportunities, recording contracts, and teaching possibili

ties waned as the 1980s wore on, largely a result of deregulation of the

cultural policies and broadcast quotas that had protected local perform

ers in the previous decade, a severe economic crisis, and the rising vio

lence at the hands of terrorist and guerilla groups, as well as the military.

Nonetheless, Afro-Peruvian music's mass-media presence and expo

sure did not vanish altogether. In the 1990s, increased political and eco

nomic stability in Peru once again opened up opportunities for Afro

Peruvian musicians, and some individuals began to ponder how to best

recapture the glory of the 1970s, a time when many performers could

make a living solely by playing, teaching, and recording music. The

results so far have been mixed. While the last few years have seen an

increase in performing opportunities, interest in Afro-Peruvian music has

not returned to previous levels. Some musicians attribute this to a lack of

current institutional support to subsidize the performance of their music.

Others argue that young people are not taught to value the richness and

diversity of Peruvian folk and popular music traditions. Still others feel

that the institutionalization of Afro-Peruvian music and its reduction to

commercially successful formulaic arrangements have left the Afro

Peruvian sound "stuck in the 1970s," irrelevant to younger generations of

listeners. Nevertheless, Afro-Peruvian musicians have maintained a

loyal, albeit smaller, audience within and without the Afro-Peruvian

community in Peru. Most recently, the international recognition achieved

by singer Susana Baca has opened the door for a renewed appreciation of

Afro-Peruvian music both in Peru and abroad. It has also paved the way

for other prominent artists such as singer Eva Ayll?n and the celebrated

dance troupe Per? Negro, who, despite years performing for the

Peruvian expatriate community, are only now being "discovered" by

mainstream audiences in Europe and the United States.

In this climate, performers have reevaluated the perceived successes

and failures of Afro-Peruvian music during the 1970s. Based on their

interpretation of the stylistic changes that took place during that time,

they have developed different strategies to cultivate its continued perfor

mance. This is not only the case with the festejo; other Afro-Peruvian gen

res are undergoing their own processes of reinterpretation by different

artists. Nevertheless, the festejo merits special attention, making up the

bulk of the "classic" Afro-Peruvian repertoire widely popularized in the

1970s.3 The genre's lively tempos, percussive accompaniment, and gener

ally uninhibited festive character makes it a favorite among musicians

3. While today, many Afro-Peruvian musicians and music enthusiasts would also point

toward another Afro-Peruvian genre, the lando, as forming a large part of the current reper

toire, it was not as widely disseminated as the festejo during the 1970s.


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fies the stagnation and continued banalility of the genre, taking away

from its potential to be a positive symbol of Afro-Peruvian identity. To

others, the festejo's former commercial success within Peru holds the

potential for future triumphs both in local and transnational arenas, pro

vided that musicians can update its musical style. In both cases, and

regardless of whether contemporary performers feel that their predeces

sors took a wrong direction in the 1970s or did not go far enough to cap

italize on the festejo's popularity, the "classic" sound of Afro-Peruvian

music as embodied in the festejo during that time remains the departure

point for reinterpretations of the genre. Consequently, contemporary

views regarding the festejo, both in terms of discourse and musical exe

cution, should be understood in reference to the musical changes that

took place as the genre transformed from a loose collection of songs hav

ing a generally festive character into a clearly defined genre that has

served as one of the main musical archetypes of Afro-Peruvian musical

style and identity since the second part of the twentieth century.

Consolidating the Ambiguous

Little is known about the festejo before the twentieth century.

Ethnomusicologist William Tompkins (1981, 250-253) points out that

many of the song fragments that survived into the twentieth century and

came to be identified as part of the festejo repertoire had melodies that

could be in a variety of different meters (generally I, \, ?, or I) that were

usually played against a fairly consistent rhythmic accompaniment in ?.

He suggests that this juxtaposition of meters likely had its "origins in the

more complex polymeters known by the first African slaves [in Peru]"

(252) and that these may have been characteristic slaves songs from as

early as the eighteenth century (241-242). The recurring references to

slavery in these fragments suggest that many of them date at least as

early as the nineteenth century. Yet, the lack of information concerning

this genre in the historical records leads Tompkins to conclude that the

label festejo was adopted more recently, perhaps no earlier than the late

nineteenth or early twentieth century6

Some of the song fragments that survived into the twentieth century

were transmitted orally within families of musicians in Lima, but in

many cases, these songs were no longer actively performed because of

6. Folklorist Guillermo Durand supports this hypothesis based on his conversations with

the celebrated musician Augusto Ascuez (1892-1985). According to Durand (2000), Ascuez

remembered that during his childhood, most adults used the term as a generic label applied

to any type of song that was either festive in character or generally performed during cele

bratory events.


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the social stigma imposed by the dominant classes. Consequently, many

musicians turned their attention to other genres, such as the marinera,

vals, and polka, that were not exclusively associated with the Afro

Peruvian community. Additional songs were added to the repertoire after

being collected from rural communities in the northern and southern

coast by some of the musicians and intellectuals associated with the

revival of Afro-Peruvian music and dance in the 1950s (Feldman 2001;

Romero 1994; Tompkins 1981).

Although these songs survived into the twentieth century, their frag

mented character, the fact that these songs ceased to be actively per

formed within the Afro-Peruvian community, and a lack of recorded

examples from the early part of the twentieth century make it difficult to

ascertain if the type of festejo that began to take shape in the second part

of the twentieth century bears any stylistic resemblance to those of previ

ous centuries. Furthermore, between the 1950s and early 1970s, the feste

jo underwent a process of consolidation and standardization that eventu

ally gave the genre a clearly defined stylistic identity, which included

specific guitar and percussion accompaniment patterns, instrumentation,

and a complex of related dance genres. Some of these changes can be

attributed to the process of gathering and consoUdating musical frag

ments from diverse regions of the Peruvian coast and sorting them into a

meaningful set of clearly delineated musical practices. As Ra?l Romero

(1994, 318) points out regarding Nicomedes Santa Cruz, one of the key

figures of the revival movement: "[B]y producing the first records of

Afro-Peruvian music in the late 1950s and early 1960s, Nicomedes estab

lished the genres which would be considered by the general public as

black in origin and character." In many cases, this process of consolida

tion was taken a step further by the generation that foUowed, particular

ly the large folkloric dance troupes, Uke the seminal Per? Negro, which

in many ways provided the model for other groups to follow and which

were largely responsible for the popularization and institutionalization of

Afro-Peruvian music as folklore.

The basis for mid-twentieth-century renditions of the festejo can be

traced back to Samuel M?rquez, whose musical revue in the 1930s fea

tured some of the "old songs" from the late nineteenth century, including

some Afro-Peruvian/este/os that were no longer actively played (Feldman

2001,57-58; Tompkins 1981,244-245). The first attempts at consolidating

the festejo into a genre appear to have taken place two decades later, when

criollo folklorist Jos? Durand, in collaboration with a number of Afro

Peruvian musicians, began to reconstruct portions of the Afro-Peruvian

repertoire. Porfirio V?squez, one of Durand's principal sources of infor

mation for surviving Afro-Peruvian performance practice in Lima and


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subdivision of the beat.8 The result is a strong duple feel with an internal

rhythmic ambiguity stemming from the possibility of subdividing the

space in between these strong beats into two or three equal parts. This

ambivalence aUows for parts to switch smoothly from one metric subdi

vision of the beat to another without affecting the festejo1's overall duple

feel. The clearest iUustration of this in Example 1 is the solo vocal part,

which starts by providing a harmony to the chorus with some rhythmic

variation in a simple duple meter. The soloist then begins to improvise by

singing nonsense syUables, at which point he introduces triplets either on

the first or second beat of each measure, thus taking advantage of two dif

ferent ways of subdividing the beat (mm. 1 and 5). Similarly, although

less frequently, the accompanying mstruments also transition from one

way of subdividing the beat to another. For example, the quijada de burro

(mm. 2-3) features occasional duplets.

The second 3:2 relationship, which also occurs in a number of other

Peruvian coastal genres, stems from the possibility of grouping the com

pound duple subdivision of the beat into three groups of two (as in the

bass line) rather than two groups of three (as in the guitar 2 part or the

caj?n9). This gives rise to a juxtaposition of a simple triple meter against

the compound duple subdivision of the beat, which is best exemplified

by the bass line, as well as by the melodic improvisations of the lead

vocalist (m. 3) and the lead guitar (mm. 1-3).

These earlier festejos also lacked an exclusive association of particular

accompaniment patterns. Tompkins's assertion that the festejo always fea

sion parts similar to those festejos documented by William Tompkins (1981), which were

expressly selected because of their stylistic relationship to renditions of the festejo that pre

dated the stylistic innovation that took place during the 1970s by large folkloric dance

troupes like Per? Negro.

8. There are a number of different ways to represent these rhythmic juxtapositions

through conventional Western notation. In this article, I represent melodies and rhythmic

patterns that primarily use simple duple subdivisions of the beat in f and compound duple

subdivision of th e beat in S. It is also possible to n?tate the se in I and % respe ctively, a con

vention that is sometimes advocated so as to fit most of the rhythmic and melodic ostinatos

that characterize the accompaniment of the festejo within a single measure. Nevertheless, the

t and $ convention is the way in which most contemporary musicians explain the festejo. It

also allows one to better visualize harmonic progressions (usually one chord per measure),

melodic and textual phrase construction (usually four-measure phrases), and the correla

tion of certain festejo accompaniment patterns with other genres, both in Peru and abroad,

that tend to be conceptualized in similar ways.

9. Literally meaning "large box," the caj?n is the most widely used Afro-Peruvian per

cussion instrument. It consists of a wooden box with two sides, top, and bottom made of

mahogany or another hard wood and front and rear faces made of plywood, the rear one

featuring a round hole near the center to amplify the sound. The performer sits with open

legs and leans over to hit the front plywood face with bare hands to produce a combination

of low tones, high tones, and "rim" shots.


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Example 2. Eduardo M?rquez Talledo, "Pancha remolino," as performed by

Arturo "Zambo" Cavero and Oscar Aviles; example of a festejo in simple duple

m eter

Vocal

Guitar 1

Guitar 2

Bass

Caj?n

?

1 r-T'LTCflCLfC-r ILT LCflfj'

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lando performed in the rural community of El Guayabo (Tompkins 2004).

It features a caj?n part that bears close similarity to those of the festejo and

little resemblance to contemporary renditions of the lando. This example

suggests that, like the melodies, the basis for the caj?n accompaniment of

the festejo may have been a generic pattern used for different types of

musical occasions of festive character. Similarly, guitar parts do not have

a specific accompaniment pattern and most often provide semi-impro

vised rhythmic struinming that doubles whichever caj?n part is being

used. While the quijada and cajita parts, which were borrowed from the

son de los diablos, tend to be among the most consistent accompaniment

patterns, they still exhibit a certain amount of ambivalence, as some feste

jos feature a direct transposition of the \ son de los diablos part, while oth

ers use variants in 8 (see Ex. 4).

This relative fluidity in accompaniment and rhythmic approaches to

the festejo began to change as innovations introduced by a subsequent

generation of performers helped further standardize it. These changes

were largely the result of the emerging folkloric dance troupes, specializ

ing exclusively in Afro-Peruvian music and dance, that prospered under

the support of the military regime of the time (1968-1980). As these

groups rose in popularity, so did their particular ways of interpreting the

festejo, something that was greatly aided not just by the dissemination of

their music through the mass media and the record industry but by the

legitimization of their endeavors as folklore by various government

sponsored institutions such as the Instituto Nacional de Cultura and the

Escuela Nacional de Folklore. In their new capacity as official culture

bearers and keepers of Afro-Peruvian tradition, many of these perform

ers went on to become mentors to new generations of performers and

Afro-Peruvian music aficionados. Perhaps most notable among these was

Per? Negro, who for the last thirty-five years has trained countless pro

fessional musicians both within its own ranks and through more formal

ized instruction in folklore schools.

The more notable stylistic changes surrounding the emergence of

contrast with most other festejos, the themes of most of these festejos are decidedly urban and

reference everyday life in Lima. "Pancha remolino" for example, tells of a man whose entire

body is sore from having danced all night at a jarana (a neighborhood party with live music

and dance) held in a black neighborhood in Lima. Some of these festejos are still performed

occasionally, mostly by performers, such as Arturo "Zambo" Cavero, who grew up in these

neighborhoods and who continue to participate in these jaranas. This suggests that the con

nections between both genres may be tied to a particular Lime?o style of playing music that

was generally festive in character, whether in parades, like the son de los diablos, or within

the context of a jarana. This possibility is partly supported by the observation made by a

number of musicians today that the cajita was used in the son de los diablos because a per

former could not carry and play a caj?n while dancing through the streets.


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Example 4. Examples of quijada and cajita patterns as used in different festejos

a. "Manonga la tamalera," as performed by Juan Criado (2000), on Victoria

Santa Cruz,. .. con Victoria Santa Cruz y Gente Morena, quijada pattern

?i? ?l? ?l?

101 ll^l?j^yl|jtMI

b. "Arroz com concol?n," as performed by Roberto Rivas (n.d.), quijada pattern

U? ?l? ?i?

c. "No me cumb?n," as performed by Nicomedes Santa Cruz (1994), cajita pattern

OtiflL?fJJJJfJ?I

mm'uu'uiui'EJ?i

d. "El congorito," as performed by Los V?squez (1998), cajita pattern

m

y

f

?uor'ttiaiiiJ ?u

WM

dance troupes that specialized exclusively in Afro-Peruvian genres

involved the development of new guitar, bass, and caj?n accompaniment

patterns. The guitar pattern transformed from a primarily strummed

rhythmic accompaniment to more complex melodic and rhythmic osti

natos that exploit the polyrhythmic relationship between I and 8. Similar

forms of accompaniment were known in previous decades but were not

necessarily associated with the festejo. In fact, the seminal Cumanana and

Canto Negro recordings by Nicomedes Santa Cruz do not feature such

guitar parts in their festejo arrangements, but they do feature Vicente

V?squez playing similar accompaniments for the zapateo and alcatraz, two

genres that, like the son de los diablos, are considered to be related to the

festejo (see Ex. 5). However, it seems that the adaptation of such patterns

to fit the festejo became commonplace among these folkloric dance

troupes and eventually led to the emergence of one of the more charac


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Example 5. Examples of guitar accompaniments for the zapateo and alcatraz

a. Excerpt from a zapateo as performed by Vicente V?squez (on N. Santa Cruz,

Socab?n)

b. "Al son de la tambora," excerpt, as performed by Roberto Rivaz and Gente

Morena; alcatraz

E A B13 E A B13 E A B13

teristic and easily identified features of the festejo: an ascending bass line

moving through the first, third, fourth, and fifth degrees of a major scale,

which provides a simple triple pattern, juxtaposed against a set of arpeg

gios in the guitar that implies a compound duple subdivision of the mea

sure and helps flesh out the underlying harmonic progression (see Ex.

6).12

The percussion parts show a similar process of standardization. Unlike

earlier versions of the festejo that could feature both simple and com

pound duple subdivisions of the beat or an alternation between the two,

percussion parts associated with these dance troupes exhibit an explicit 8

feel that is largely emphasized by a seemingly infinite variety of stan

dardized caj?n patterns that percussionists generally refer to as "bases"

(see Ex. 7). A performer would elaborate variations, improvise solos on

these bases, or truncate them by means of percussion breaks.13 The over

all result has been a festejo with a far more explicit ? feel. As with many

12. While this way of accompanying the festejo would become standard in later years, in

the 1970s, many renditions by performers other than these folkloric dance troupes featured

different approaches to the festejo. Most notable are the performances by Juan Criado, who

continued to perform in the early 1970s, as well as the collaborations between cajonero and

singer Arturo "Zambo" Cavero and noted guitarist Oscar Aviles.

13. Although it is difficult to determine exactly how this process took place, many indi

viduals, particularly those affiliated directly or indirectly with the Per? Negro musical lin

eage, credit these innovations to founding member Ronaldo Campos (Feldman 2001,

283-284).


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Example 6. Examples of guitar and bass festejo accompaniments derived from

the zapateo and alcatraz

B E AB E

A B7

^'l'iiir r r \if h ir r ? i?f Pr ir r r i^f^

Example 7. Examples of different caj?n tees as demonstrated by percussionist

Juan Medrano Cotito (1996a, 2000)

DUN PPF IP F

m

U P L?T IP r

4

?~x

m u- r u

.m

^>

F-?1

33

L U

-H-?

U U

o m i' T etp* i^ Efp> Tf eHTIim p* ii

DflU'j pF î^î^îL[j>rn=ii

other genres in South America, the festejo continues to exploit the

polyrhythmic relationship between 8 and % but the additional layering of

a simple duple meter is uncommon and can only be heard occasionally in

the improvisations of the more skilled singers.

Between Consolidation and Commodification

Although the process of stylistic consolidation allowed the festejo to

become firmly established as an important musical symbol of a recovered

Afro-Peruvian identity, other changes during the 1970s, when the festejo

was at the height of its popularity, have led many contemporary musi

cians to conclude that this period also marked the beginning of the

genre's commodification. Most such critiques reference attempts at "re

Africanizing" the reconstructed Afro-Peruvian repertoire, often by many

of the same individuals who were instrumental in its consolidation. In


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retrospect, critics feel that this project quickly degenerated into a desire to

exoticize Afro-Peruvian music to make it more marketable. To those in

the more traditionalist camp, this also signaled the potential dilution of

local traditions, as foreign musical instruments and accompaniment pat

terns began to find their way into the festejo. Other critics have focused on

what they feel is the mass production o? festejos for commercial purposes,

which, in turn, they argue, has led some performers to disregard the

types of images that they are promoting about the Afro-Peruvian com

munity. This view overlaps with the perception that commodification has

led to a stylistic mechanization and stagnation, which some contempo

rary performers are attempting to undo in a variety of different ways.

Despite these critiques, it is difficult for contemporary musicians to

simply dismiss all the musical changes that took place during the 1970s,

given that many of these changes also set precedents for the types of

innovations that they have pursued in more recent years. Evaluating

what exactly happened to the festejo during this decade involves a careful

interpretation of both changes in musical style and the ascribed inten

tionality behind these changes in an attempt to determine the moment in

which musical innovation gave way to an unreflexive fetishization of the

festejo.

One of the more readily visible markers of this "re-Africanization" was

the incorporation of instruments that were, and to some still are, consid

ered to be outside the Afro-Peruvian tradition. Percussion instruments

such as the tumbadoras (conga drums), bongos, cencerro (cowbell), and

guiro (gourd scraper), although foreign to Peru, became commonplace in

Afro-Peruvian music. The first recorded instances of this usage come

from two tracks in Nicomedes Santa Cruz's influential 1964 recording

Cumanana, in which tumbadoras are used in a lando ("Samba malat?") and

to accompany what is identified as a "characteristic piece" titled

"Cumanana," basically a round with a festejo accompaniment. Later, Per?

Negro featured tumbadoras and other Latin percussion more prominently

and systematically in its arrangements, a practice that became quite com

mon among later folkloric dance troupes. Traditionalist voices, which

most often come from outside the Afro-Peruvian musical community,

find the use of these instruments to be little more than an attempt at mak

ing the festejo more marketable to mainstream audiences that at the time

were avid consumers of salsa and cumbia. Nicomedes Santa Cruz (1970,

11) himself criticized subsequent generations of performers for engaging

in this practice, viewing their use of these instruments as part of an

attempt to cash in on the popularity of cumbia and salsa or to satisfy the

exoticist cravings of Lime?o audiences who only recently "discovered"

that there were people of African descent in Peru.


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While some of the sentiment is certainly valid, these views generally

ignore the importance that instruments held as symbols of the recovery

of a musical past that connected Afro-Peruvian traditions back to Africa

through the present-day musical practices of places like Cuba, where

such diasporic connections remained vital and strong. Although these

specific drums were not a part of twentieth-century Afro-Peruvian musi

cal experience, references to similar instruments, such as hollow log

drums, are found from the sixteenth to the nineteenth century, while the

tambor de botija, a large earthenware drum that was popular in a number

of areas on the Peruvian coast, survived into the early part of the twenti

eth century before being displaced by the caj?n (Tompkins 1981,147-151).

Furthermore, in the decades before the revival of Afro-Peruvian music

and dance, most performing opportunities for Afro-Peruvian musicians,

particularly percussionists, were with groups speciahzing in various

Caribbean musics that were popular in Lima (Casaverde 1996a; Medrano

Cotito 1996a; A. V?squez 1995), suggesting that these instruments and the

genres with which they were associated played an important role in the

experience and identity of many Afro-Peruvian musicians. Most Afro

Peruvian musicians today, like their predecessors, have an intimate con

nection with many of these Caribbean genres, often playing with local

salsa bands, as well as with Afro-Peruvian and criollo music groups, and

using these experiences to shape their identity.

Traditionalist critics have generally ignored this aspect of an Afro

Peruvian musician's identity, having dichotomized the relationship

between traditional practices and the mass media in such a way that an

"authentic" performer is conceived as someone who has no experiences

or knowledge outside of what is perceived to be the discretely bounded

sphere of his or her culture. However, it is in part the familiarity that

musicians already had with these musics that allowed Afro-Peruvian

musicians to "fill in the gaps" while reconstructing the Afro-Peruvian

musical repertoire. Revival singer and percussionist Abelardo V?squez

(1995), for example, recalls having performed in a "tropical music" (son,

mambo, boleros, b?guines, etc.) band when he was young, a practice that

remained commonplace with musicians of subsequent generations, such

as percussionist Juan Medrano Cotito (1996b), as well as guitarists F?lix

Casaverde (1996a) and Roberto Arguedas (2000), all of whom also

became familiar with Cuban musical genres during their formative musi

cal years. In fact, the practice appears to have been quite commonplace

throughout the better part of the twentieth century. As musicologist Juan

Pablo Gonz?lez (2004) points out, the skill of Afro-Peruvian musicians in

this area was so well known that throughout the first part of the twenti


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eth century, Chilean bandleaders often traveled to Lima to hire Afro

Peruvians musicians to perform with their bands in Santiago.

The use of a tumbadora accompaniment pattern for the festejo that is

both a variation of the caj?n base (with high and low pitches inverted)

and a 8 adaptation of the pattern used in Cuban rumba also illustrates the

connection of Afro-Peruvian musicians to other musics (see Ex. 8). This

particular development is often credited to the collaboration between

members of Per? Negro and Guillermo Nicasio Regeira, "El Ni?o," a

Cuban expatriate who helped develop this group's sound and stage pre

sentations (Feldman 2001, 312-318).

The adoption of this expanded instrumentation into the festejo nonethe

less had what some see as a negative effect on the genre. As these instru

ments became more commonplace, and as caj?n bases became more for

malized, the underlying 8 rhythmic feel of the festejo was emphasized

more, to the point that a faster and more "normalized" rhythmic feel pri

marily in compound duple time largely replaced the juxtaposition of

duple and triple subdivisions of the beat so characteristic of earlier feste

jo arrangements. Ironically, features associated with the older festejo style

may have in fact constituted a survival of African polyrhythm in the

Peruvian coast and were now being downplayed in favor of largely more

visually and timbrally symbolic attempts at invoking that African her

itage. Perhaps in this sense, his own experimentation with these musical

instruments notwithstanding, Nicomedes Santa Cruz was not entirely

wrong. Whether aware of Santa Cruz's initial criticism on this matter,

many musicians today agree. In particular, they criticize more main

stream commercial recordings in which the percussion overwhelms the

guitar parts and vocals or, alternately, speed up the tempo so much that

the guitar players had difficulty keeping up with the rest of the ensemble.

Faster tempos and a more regularized rhythmic structure coupled with

the emergence of many festejos that were little more than musical para

phrases of each other were indicative of a more mechanical, mass-pro

duced, and unreflexive approach toward the genre.

Actor, dancer, and percussionist Luis Sandoval notes that the prolifer

ation of such festejos gave rise to the performance and consumption of

Afro-Peruvian music primarily for entertainment purposes, overshadow

ing the success and awareness of earlier groups. In Sandoval's mind, this

affected members of the Afro-Peruvian community who, like himself,

had not grown up in a family that cultivated the performance of Afro

Peruvian music and whose knowledge regarding these musical practices

was largely based on what was available through the mass media. "There

are two types [of Afro-Peruvian music]. There was the other camp, the

black music that was more commercial?'El negrito chinchiv?/ this and


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Example 8. Tumbadora part used to accompany the festejo

tumbadoras

(rumba guaguanc?)

tumbadoras

(festejo adaptation)

caj?n

{festejo base)

n* i ii'hpt jiM??r jir^t j u*pr i 41

-P5

08 Jll?r F J K 'JJ1F PPJ l?r PJ 'II

08 J1IN PPF IPF ??\ ? PLLflPF ?1141

that. What was played on the radio, the 45 [rpm] singles that people

bought. Nicomedes Santa Cruz, Victoria Santa Cruz were a bit more intel

lectual, let's say, but they did make an impact-The issue is that it was

not enough of an impact" (Sandoval 2000). To many musicians, festejos

such as "El negrito chinchiv?,"14 whose lyrics?"Chinchivi makes you

laugh, chinchivi makes you rejoice / The black man gets very drunk

when he drinks chinchivi"?glorify ethnic stereotypes both within and

without the Afro-Peruvian community. Indeed, it is fair to say that one of

the reasons festejos have become so popular with non-Afro-Peruvian

audiences is because of such lyrics, which continue to reinforce colonial

stereotypes that romanticize Afro-Peruvians as good natured, fun-loving,

and mischievous, and whose only way to cope with life's hardships is to

drink, dance, and engage in adulterous behavior.

Unfortunately, these stereotypes persist in updated form, particularly

by groups that continue to approach the festejo as an "uninhibited" and

sexually liberating dance form with potential for international crossover.

In the late 1970s, the festejo was largely tied to a particular style of danc

ing that Heidi Feldman (2001, 326-327, 366) traces to musical gatherings

that took place at the locale Pe?a Valentina. Since then, many musicians

and dancers have criticized the proliferation of this dance style, which

features young women wearing short, flared skirts and small halter tops,

vigorously shaking their hips and shoulders in what amounts to little

more than the objectification of the black female body. References to this

kind of frenzied and, some would argue, mechanized form of dancing are

even found occasionally in some recordings. For example, in the festejo

"Pr?ndeme la vela" ("Light My Candle"), recorded by Abelardo V?squez

and his ensemble Cumana in 1971, the background vocals, presumably

14. Chinchivi is a homemade corn brew spiced with nutmeg and cloves that was com

mon in Lima's Afro-Peruvian neighborhoods at the turn of the twentieth century. The

approximate translation of the title of this festejo is "Black Boy Chinchivi."


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referring to dancing taking place during this performance, proclaim: "Esa

morena parece licuadora" (That brown girl moves like a blender).

The dance trend never completely faded, although that type of cos

tuming is now more generally associated with young girls rather than

women and is mainly relegated to the amateur festejo dancing competi

tions that take place in the summer months and the occasional end-of

year performances at some Lime?o private schools. The aerobics and dis

cotheque fads represent a more recent incarnation of this phenomenon.

For example, criollo singer Julie Freundt in the mid-1990s tried to put a

fresh (and somewhat cleaned up) face on the festejo by combining it with

elements of modern dance and using what was essentially a pop rock

band. To promote her reinterpretation of the dance, Freundt appeared at

a number of school fund-raisers and other family-oriented events around

Lima, often accompanied by girls from local schools dressed in a combi

nation of miniskirts and gymnastics leotards. She eventually released

Afrodance (Ex. 9), a collection of pop covers of various festejos, with the

intent of "bringing Afroperuvian music to the discotheques in order to

dance it to the fullness of its expression [and to] search day by day for

those missing elements that will allow for our Peruvian music to enter the

Latin music market" (Freundt 1998).

In the early 1980s, as performance opportunities began to dry up and

the new regime began to relax cultural policies that favored local per

formers, the popularity of Afro-Peruvian music in the mass market began

to wane. Eventually, local labels stopped recording new albums in favor

of rereleasing "classic" recordings of the 1970s to which most artists had

sold their rights. In this new climate, many performers were forced into

partial or full retirement, some teaching in folklore schools and private

academies. Exceptions were those few groups that managed to keep

themselves in the media's spotlight. Most notable among these was Eva

Ayll?n, who in the 1980s and 1990s became the most recognized name in

both Afro-Peruvian and criollo music. Starting as a singer of criollo reper

toire in the late 1970s, Ayll?n in the 1980s began receiving recognition as

Example 9. Example of the bass line used by F?lix Casaverde to accompany the

festejo and its relationship to the bass tumbao

bass tumbao

adapted festejo

bass line

r % m r r r 1

E F% in B7

E F?7 B7

E A/F } B7

E B/F* B

i


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a solo artist largely from her collaboration with the group Los Hijos Del

Sol (The Children of the Sun). The Los Hijos Del Sol project was based in

Los Angeles but included a number of young and prominent criollo,

Afro-Peruvian, and jazz musicians from Lima. At a time when most

Lime?o audiences had turned away from local music, the group sought

to infuse a primarily criollo and Afro-Peruvian repertoire with a combi

nation of rock, jazz fusion, and salsa to develop a less provincial sound

that could better compete with other musics both in Peru and in the inter

national market. In Lima, the project was well received by a small but

loyal audience who saw in the jazz component of the group's arrange

ments a means to transform Peruvian coastal music into a contemporary

and sophisticated form of musical expression that would receive interna

tional recognition. Although the project was short-lived,15 it greatly

affected the careers of some of its members, most notably percussionist

Alex Acu?a, who, already a well-known jazz and Latin percussionist,

used this opportunity to familiarize hirnself with Afro-Peruvian music;

guitarist Lucho Gonz?lez, who continues to perform jazz-influenced ren

ditions of the vals criollo both in Lima and Buenos Aires; and Eva Ayll?n.

At a time when most Afro-Peruvian and criollo performers had great

difficulty finding performing opportunities, Ayll?n was a commercial

success, often filling large concert halls and stadiums, even in provinces

outside of Lima. Her performances were (and still are) exciting and

dynamic; they included a broad range of repertoire from the Peruvian

coast, supplementing the standard repertoire with new compositions and

introducing audiences to new generations of performers (many of them

children of musicians from decades past). Ay lion's treatment of Afro

Peruvian music, much of it the result of her collaboration with arranger

and guitarist Walter Velasquez, set the stylistic standard emulated by

many performers of subsequent generations. In terms of the festejo,

Velasquez generally expanded upon many strategies of performers in the

1970s; guitar parts continued to feature melodic and rhythmic ostinatos,

although he now emphasized virtuosity and improvisation, and he

added more percussion to the musical texture, including, in a few

instances, Afro-Cuban bata drums and a salsa horn section.

Ironically, although these festejos exhibit large percussion sections with

rhythmically dense accompaniments and add other nontraditional

instruments, such electric or electro-acoustic guitars and piano or syn

thesizers, Ayll?n's music has eluded much of the criticism received by

15. Los Hijos Del Sol attempted a revival by recording a second album and setting up a

U.S. tour in 2002. However, this reunion had little effect on musical activity in Lima. For the

purposes of this article, Los Hijos Del Sol's importance lies in the influence the group had

on singer Eva Ayll?n.


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earlier generations. There are a number of reasons for this. First, the criol

lo music circuit has historically featured a number of lead singers of

African descent, as well as Afro-Peruvian instrumentalists and dancers

who moonlight as backup musicians within this circuit. Ayll?n, who is

Afro-Peruvian, got her start in this musical realm, rather than with a

group that specialized exclusively in Afro-Peruvian music and dance.

While there certainly is a criollo traditionalist discourse that looks unfa

vorably on certain types of musical experimentation (Le?n 1997, 2003b),

musicians associated with this realm appear to have a bit more flexibility

in incorporating, from time to time, such stylistic elements. Second,

Ayll?n is afforded a certain amount of authority in reinterpreting Afro

Peruvian genres because of her ethnicity (at least in the eyes of non-Afro

Peruvian audiences) and because she tends to collaborate with well

known criollo and Afro-Peruvian musicians whose work is respected

within the musical community. Finally, she is an excellent musician with

a nuanced sense of rhythmic interplay and a facility for ornamentation

prominently framed by lively and dynamic arrangements that also dis

play the virtuosic talents of her band.

Unlike many of the commercially successful groups from previous

decades, most performers today, although not necessarily agreeing with

all of Ayll?n's stylistic choices, regard her as having had a positive effect

on the development of Afro-Peruvian music. Most agree that her success

in festejos stems from her ability (and that of her arrangers) to modify fes

tejos from the surviving repertoire and more recent compositions with

stylistic elements from previous decades in such a way that her music

remains closely linked to musical practices of the past while also reflect

ing contemporary experience. Rather than emulating trends (as most

people feel is the case with Julie Freundt), Ayll?n is seen as someone who

has set trends of her own. To an extent, unsuccessful attempts by other

artists to emulate her particular style of innovating the festejo have given

her further legitimacy as an artist who, although commercially success

ful, has managed to stay close to what most musicians identify as "the

roots of tradition." Clearly, this involves more than just reproducing a

tried-and-true formula. For many Afro-Peruvian musicians today, style is

part of a dynamic creative process rather than a static category used to

determine whether a musical structure is authentic. Critiques regarding

the stylistic path taken by the festejo often deal with those moments at

which style became fixed and endlessly reproduced, something that is

linked to the genre's process of commodification. From this perspective,

staying close to the roots of tradition means continuing to pursue strate

gies of stylistic innovation that are deemed to reflect the creative force

behind the stylistic changes of previous decades. To this end, musicians


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continue to critically reinterpret the festejo's> trajectory, often emphasizing

some stylistic features of the genre as a means of downplaying others that

they find symptomatic of the genre's commodification.

New Generations Reinterpreting the Festejo

The increased political and economic stability in Peru during the 1990s

led to better opportunities for Afro-Peruvian musicians and a renewed,

although more limited, interest by Lime?o audiences in Afro-Peruvian

music. While many older musicians remain nostalgic for the 1970s, the

subsequent changes allowed a variety of groups with different aims to

reemerge. After a long period of little or no recording activity, a number

of the more influential figures of the earlier decades?including Lucia

Campos, Arturo "Zambo" Cavero, Caitro Soto, Victoria Santa Cruz, and

Abelardo V?squez?recorded new albums. Some were retrospective,

aimed at acknowledging their role in the development of Afro-Peruvian

music; others illustrate that, although not as visible, they had continued

to remain active performers. Now in her thirty-fifth year as a performer,

Eva Ayll?n also continues to be a prominent figure in the mass media. In

addition, folklore schools and dance academies have continued to pro

vide new members for professional dance troupes that perform the "clas

sic" repertoire. The progeny of many of these performers, most notably

among them Los Hermanos Santa Cruz (nephews of Victoria and

Nicomedes) and the most recent incarnations of Per? Negro (most of

them children and grandchildren of the original members), have started

to come into their own and continue to promote updated versions of their

forebears' repertoire.16 Other performers have also emerged who contin

ue to see in the festejo the potential for international crossover. A particu

larly notable case was the collaboration between rocker Miki Gonz?lez

and the Ballumbrosio family (Akund?n), whose dance-hall reggae and

African pop-influenced festejos were quite popular in the mid-to-late

1990s. A more recent attempt has been that of Jos? de la Cruz "Guajaja"

(Sacarroncha), who in 2000 styled his particular reinterpretations of the fes

tejo after Panamanian rapper El General.

In this climate, the issue of keeping an appropriate balance between

innovation and tradition has become the central point of debate, particu

larly regarding who has the authority to introduce such changes.

16. In some cases, the passing of some of the more prominent musicians has put some of

their descendants in positions of authority as experts on Afro-Peruvian matters. That is par

ticularly the case with Rafael Santa Cruz in regard to his uncle Nicomedes and Juan Carlos

"Juanchi" V?squez and Ronny Campos in regard to their respective fathers, Abelardo and

Ronaldo.


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Crossover projects like those of Gonz?lez and the Ballumbrosio (e.g., Ven

a gozar) or those of Guajaja have been criticized, particularly by members

of the older generation, for trivializing or diluting Afro-Peruvian tradi

tion and because their potential commercial success could easily over

shadow the efforts of those performers who refuse to use these types of

fusions as a means of attracting a bigger audience. The late Abelardo

V?squez (1995), for example, felt that the rise in popularity of such indi

viduals often led to their canonization as authorities of Afro-Peruvian

matters by a largely lay and non-Afro-Peruvian public, while culture

bearers such as himself were dismissed as old-fashioned. Younger musi

cians are more liberal in their assessment, viewing continued innovations

as a way to keep Afro-Peruvian musical practices current and relevant to

younger generations. They do not see the attempts as necessarily threat

ening the integrity of the Afro-Peruvian repertoire because its proponents

are not claiming that such cross-over experiments constitute a part of "the

tradition" but that may over time have an influence on how Afro

Peruvian music is reinterpreted (M. Gonz?lez 1995).

In contrast, there is much more criticism of those more self-conscious

attempts by performers who do pretend to single-handedly revamp Afro

Peruvian music, particularly when these individuals are perceived to be

outsiders to the Afro-Peruvian community. This is the case with Julie

Freundt (1996), who relabeled her interpretation of the festejo as the

saramb? and promoted it as a new and modern Afro-Peruvian genre that

rendered the festejo obsolete. Another notable example was that of criollo

composer Mario Cavagnaro (1996), whose own invented Afro-Peruvian

genre, the cajumba?also a festejo derivative, which highlighted the cajita

accompaniment more than that of the other instruments?was briefly

promoted by Peruvian Rock en Espa?ol heartthrob Julio Andrade (on his

album Algo m?s de mi). The criticisms of these performers vary widely,

ranging from those who dismiss them as well-meaning but ultimately

uninformed outsiders to the Afro-Peruvian musical tradition, to those

who resent them because of the paternalism that underscores the desire

to create something new not only for profit but to seemingly rescue Afro

Peruvian music from Afro-Peruvian musicians.

The emergence of these varied voices, as well as a spirit of criticism

aimed at questioning the perceived musical status quo, has benefited

those performers who, although active since the 1970s, remained over

shadowed by more commercially successful groups. Such is the case with

guitarist F?lix Casaverde, who became better appreciated in the 1990s as

an accomplished composer and soloist and not just as an accompanist for

prominent criollo singers Chabuca Granda, Tarda Libertad, and Julie

Freundt. Similarly, Susana Baca, despite having defined the standard of


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the Afro-Peruvian sound to international audiences thanks to the success

of recordings on David Byrne's record label Luaka Bop (Susana Baca and

Eco de sombras), has only recently received recognition by local perform

ers and audiences; for nearly two decades, her music was deemed by

most to be too experimental to be considered a part of the repertoire.

Casaverde's and Baca's approaches to the festejo have much in com

mon, stemming from past collaborations as well as their relationship

early in their careers with criollo composer Chabuca Granda. A member

of Lima's liberal bohemian intelligentsia, Granda had been an important

figure on the criollo music scene since the 1950s. In the 1970s and early

1980s, she became an active supporter and mentor to a number of young

criollo and Afro-Peruvian performers, including Susana Baca and the

original members of Per? Negro. Later in her career, interested in moving

beyond the confines and conventions of the various genres that were

popular at the time, Granda collaborated with young and promising per

formers to explore new compositional possibilities partly inspired by the

Afro-Peruvian genres that had started to become popular in the main

stream media. F?lix Casaverde was among these performers, and this

experience went on to influence his own stylistic interpretations of the fes

tejo.

Over the last decade, individuals such as Casaverde and Baca have

helped redefine the festejo in a fashion that seeks to move away from

those stylistic elements that have become associated with the genre's

commodification. Tempos are decidedly slower, and a more Umited

instrumentation creates a more intimate sound. For Casaverde (1996a),

this constitutes a return to an older festejo feel, before a large battery of

percussion and increasingly fast tempos did away with the genre's rhyth

mic subtleties. His music recenters the listener's attention to the interplay

between the guitar, the caj?n, and the accompanying bass or second gui

tar. A slower tempo allows Casaverde to explore the rhythmic and har

monic possibilities of the genre by infusing it with elements from the

blues, bossa nova, and Latin jazz. A particularly salient feature of this

fusion is how Casaverde and other performers have begun to shift

emphasis away from the downbeat in the bass line by developing what

Casaverde calls a new way of playing the festejo that is inspired by bass

tumbao rhythm in Cuban son and salsa (see Ex. 9). Despite the negative

associations that the "Cubanization" of Afro-Peruvian music might have

with some musicians because of a perceived overuse of percussion instru

ments, Casaverde recognizes the importance that such appropriations

had in the 1970s. Even though he feels that perhaps they went too far, he

finds it appropriate to continue to look at these diasporic connections as

source of further inspiration. Example 9 also shows the substitution of the


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second scale degree for the fourth in the bass line, which gives the gui

tarist alternative ways of harmonizing the accompaniment. At the same

time, transforming this bass line into a second guitar part, as Casaverde

advocates, leads to the juxtaposition of a more traditional use of triads

and dominant chords in the second part with the expanded and altered

chords of the lead, as well as a return of the iambic rhythmic figure (see

Ex. 1) that was prevalent in earlier festejos (see Ex. 10).

In recent years, Susana Baca, in collaboration with her musical director

and arranger David Pinto, has favored similar interpretations of the feste

jo. In her case, she supplements the slower tempos with a more minimal

ist accompaniment that can highlight the relationship between the voice

and the percussion, with substantially less elaborate harmonic support

provided by a bass and guitar (Baca and Pereira 1996). Like Casaverde,

Baca wants to explore the harmonic and rhythmic possibilities of the fes

tejo. There are in fact some commonalities between the two approaches,

particularly in the way they reharmonize the genre's standard I-IV-V

chord progression. This similarity stems from their collaboration in earli

er projects as well as their common partnership with bass player and

arranger F?lix Vilchez. In Baca's case, it is a bit more difficult to pinpoint

a single way in which she achieves this rhythmic and harmonic explo

ration since her arrangements change continually. Nevertheless, her more

recent interpretations of the festejo show an interest in maintaining a

strong and regular rhythmic feel in the musical texture, while at the same

time shifting the emphasis away from an easily discernible downbeat. In

"Molino molero" (The Grinding Mill), a festejo dating from the earlier part

of the nineteenth century (Tompkins 1981, 243), Baca and Pinto do away

with the guitars altogether in favor of an arrangement that relies primar

ily on bass, caj?n, and cajita for the accompaniment (see Ex. 11). In this

case, the bass uses the type of bass line advocated by Casaverde, one that

persuades untrained listeners to hear the downbeat on the third quarter

note of the measure. The cajita and caj?n contribute to the listener's dis

orientation by omitting the first downbeat in their patterns. The result is

particularly effective in the caj?n because, throughout the piece, percus

sionist Juan Medrano avoids playing the low tone that is characteristic of

most caj?n bases (see Ex. 7). The overall effect is a complex rhythmic feel

that is further reinforced by the omission of other accompaniment parts

that could provide the listener with a clearer frame of reference.

At first glance, innovations by Casaverde and Baca may seem like a

radical departure from earlier interpretations of the festejo. And in fact,

they do sound significantly different compared to interpretations of the

genre by other contemporary groups; until recently, Peruvian audiences

have agreed that their sound departs too far from the "classic" sound to


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Example 10. Festejo accompaniment with two guitars as demonstrated by F?lix

Casaverde (1996b)

guitar 1

r r? r * r ; r r-r * r ^ r r-r * r

E B

0

B7 B7

.J4v?iifPiWiimiWii?Pt'ia?

or bass) t? ? ? ? ? pr? ? ? ? ? w ? ? ? ? ? ?~z:

Example 11. "Molino molero," introduction, as performed by Susana Baca

?h o 8j p,rri

0 %U\ J IPF ?mrNJTllpr m\U\ J

Caj?n

fir

F?^ B7

?P B7

which they have become accustomed. At the same time, however, both

Casaverde and Baca are strong advocates of innovating Afro-Peruvian

genres like the festejo while maintaining a strong connection to the past.

A closer examination of their techniques shows how their reinterpreta

tions of the genre have developed as part of a dialogue with that "classic"

sound and that they reflect choices consciously made to emphasize those

aspects of the festejo that they feel have been forgotten or homogenized

during the perceived commodification of the genre in the 1970s. In recent

years, these views have begun to change, largely as the styles of Baca and

Casaverde have received the validation of audiences abroad. Ironically, to

those audiences, Baca's arrangements have come to define their sense of

the "classic" Afro-Peruvian sound, and performers like Eva Ayll?n and

Per? Negro are now finding the need to contend with those expectations

when trying to launch their careers abroad. At this point, it is unlikely

that other Afro-Peruvian musicians will come to perceive Baca's arrange

ments as indicative of a new process of commodification of the festejo

among international audiences. This is not only because Afro-Peruvian

music represents a tiny portion of the world music market and is unlike


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ly to receive the mass dissemination that has characterized reggae or

salsa, but also because other Afro-Peruvian artists who are starting to

enter the international arena are proposing their own alternative inter

pretations of the genre.

Conclusion

The relationship between popular music and the mass media in Lima

is more complex than suggested by the discourses and theoretical

approaches that are generally concerned with assessing the overall

benevolent or malevolent impact of the latter on the former. By approach

ing style as part of a constitutive process and analyzing the context in

which stylistic transformation takes place, this article offers the following

conclusions.

First, the stylistic trajectory of the festejo reveals a more complex

process of negotiation between Afro-Peruvian music and the mass media.

The criticisms regarding the commodification of the festejo in the late

1970s are certainly not off the mark. While the dissemination of Afro

Peruvian music and dance through the Lime?o mass media and record

ing industry did bring attention to a community whose cultural contri

butions to the development of Peruvian coastal culture had been

generally ignored, it also contributed to the development of an exoticized

image of the Afro-Peruvian community that perpetuated particular racial

and sexual stereotypes. At the same time, one needs also to acknowledge

that the consolidation?some could argue homogenization?of the festejo

into a clearly defined genre during the early days of the revival, some

thing that was essential in order for this music and dance to become one

of the predominant symbols of a reclaimed Afro-Peruvian cultural her

itage, was partly the result of the entrance of the genre into the profes

sional stage and a mass-mediated environment that contributed to the

privileging of particular stylistic practices.

Second, while engagement with the mass media has been riddled with

problems regarding issues of appropriation, co-optation, and trivializa

tion of the Afro-Peruvian musical repertoire, it has not invariably led to

the inevitable demise of a formerly vital genre. While some contempo

rary performers continue to seek the contemporary version of the formu

la that turned the festejo into a mass-media marketing success in the

1970s, there are also those who, critical of some of the turns that the feste

jo took in decades past, have developed alternative reinterpretations of

the genre that could be characterized as exhibiting a "lessons-learned"

approach. The point here is not to arrive at a final analysis whereby

opposing tendencies are tallied in order to determine whether the overall


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trajectory of the festejo has been one that leads to a positive or negative

outcome. Ultimately, this is about acknowledging that at any given time

and place, one individual's act of resistance is someone else's act of con

formity. Both the hegemonic and resistive aspects of mass culture are rel

ative, and what oftentimes remains underexamined is the process by

which musicians and audiences musically and discursively construct

both of these outcomes as they reevaluate the historical and stylistic lega

cy of a particular genre.

Third, the tension that exits between potentially positive and negative

outcomes of the mass-mediation of Afro-Peruvian music and the perfor

mative negotiations that it tends to produce opens up a space for other

ethnomusicologists to begin to reexamine whether similar complex rela

tionships exist in other types of Peruvian popular music previously

thought to simply conform to a fairly static model of development. For

example, such an approach could offer a far more detailed understanding

of the role that the recording industry, record producers, promoters, and

market interests have had in shaping the musical style and aesthetics of

mestizo musics such as the chicha and huayno. As it stands, these social

forces remain largely invisible, giving the impression that musicians from

these groups have been able to "put their music out there" without any

mediation. Conversely, characterizations of criollo popular music as a

musical genre that simple sold out to mass media and nationalist inter

ests in earlier decades largely ignore those marginal spaces beyond the

reaches of the commercial music market, where working-class musicians

continue to perform criollo well after the waning of its supposed golden

age.

Finally, I would like to suggest that focusing on the types of ongoing

negotiations that take place at the level of musical style can contribute to

a better critique of what have become two enduring tropes in the study

of popular music, whether one speaks of salsa, cumbia, merengue, nueva

canci?n, reggae, samba, son, or tango, among many others.

I would like to thank Michael O'Brien, Peter Garcia, and the late Gerard B?hague for

comments made to an earlier draft of this article. Molly Burke was also of great help with

the proofreading of the final draft. I am also indebted to the insightful comments provided

by Heidi Feldman and the anonymous reviewers. Finally, I am also thankful to Bill

Tompkins for providing me with a copy of some of his field recordings. Without these, por

tions of my analysis of the festejo would have been lacking.


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DISCOGRAPHY

Acu?a, Alex, and Eva Ally?n. Los Hijos del Sol: To m

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