Rasin Kreyol

Thu, 08 Jan 2009 05:36:02 -0600

On Rasin Kreyol, Emeline Michel draws on the roots and history of Haiti—the world’s first Black republic—in many ways. The intertwined rhythms of the manman tanbou, boula, and katabou—Haitian drums—provide the foundation for original lyrics peppered with Haitian proverbs and positive messages. “Everybody knows that Haiti is in trouble,” she says. “Sometimes I feel like I should be there helping! This album is my way to be there. It’s my chance to show a side of Haitian culture that is positive.”

On Nasyon Soléy (Sun Nation), Emeline sings, “We don’t want to die before our children can see our country back on its feet. We don’t want to die without going back to Haiti no no no.”

Even Emeline’s three-year-old—heard on the song’s intro—is aware of this homesickness. “I ask him what’s mommy’s dream? He says, ‘Mommy wants to find her feet in the warm water,’” explains Emeline. The song continues, “We are dreaming of the sun. We are tired of fighting, tired of the cold. We are not Diaspora, we are just trapped. Sun nation, stand up. Sun nation, stay strong, don’t give-up. Sun nation, wherever you go you carry your flag under your skin. Wherever you go your flag is yourself.”

The sound of a bicycle pedaling backward is the metaphorical inspiration for Zikap, a sound that any Haitian will recognize. The reggae-inflected bass-line is embossed with Haitian proverbs to create a humorous call to awareness about AIDS and HIV. “Zikap zikap. Check the brake. This danger does not honk,” says the song, which will likely become part of an official health campaign back in Haiti.

When it came to recording Mon Reve (My Dream), originally a full page of lyrics, “I was so tired,” Emeline says, “I did a version where I gave up on the lyrics and just hummed it.” Emeline tells one story that inspired the song: “When you are crossing the border from one country to another, your heart is going through the mouth. Especially how they treat Haitians. One time I was running with my bags trying not to miss a plane. I gave an official my passport with tons of stamps from traveling all over the world. And he looks at me and says ‘Why are you out of breath?’ They’re automatically suspicious.” Over a Haitian vodou doublé nago rhythm and a haunting, Guinean Fula flute, Emeline dreams of a world with all nationalities, living together without borders. She says, “The planet is for all of us and we should make it easy for each other.”

“I ended up not singing one word on Mon Reve,” recalls Emeline. “And at the end, when I listen to it, I think to myself, ‘Stop having regrets on what you haven’t done. Start living that dream right now!”

New Music From Emeline Michel on Calabash Music

Rasin Kreyol