Bélè Beats

When I hit an island, the first thing I do is ditch the iPod and channel surf past the island talk radio for the good stuff - local tunes. I'm from Louisiana, and I learned from an early age that music isn't just something that makes you dance. It's part of the culture. It's a way to experience yet another level; to connect. Whether it's in an off-the-beaten-track Belizean village or the welcome terminal of the San Juan airport, I'm not satisfied until I've had my fix.

I landed on Martinique just in time for their Emancipation Day festivities. That's where I first heard Bélè, a mix of traditional drumming and singing from the era of slavery, which eventually evolved into zouk. The drums, called ta mbou in Creole, are handmade like a rum barrel, with wooden slats shaped by metal rings and fired from the inside. We watched Bwa Mabi perform a few cadences in the Slave Savannah heritage village, led by Max Telephe (the one standing). He's kind of a big deal - a local celebrity for his singing, acting and musical instrumentation.

In their cadences, Max sang in the traditional call-and-response style. In other words, he called, and the rest of the band repeated. Simple, but rhythmic. He also played the flute and shaker, and another member played ti bois, the bamboo drum. They were fascinating to watch.

The accompanying dance (bottom), also called Bélè, is a form of quadrille, where four couples dance in a square formation. It got pretty raunchy (if you've ever been in a late night club in the Caribbean, you know what I'm talking about). Let's just say I'm still blushing. Apparently that's not a new invention from the whippersnappers. Now that I've seen the dance, felt the beat and heard the lyrics, I know Martinique a little better (maybe even intimately).

Bélè Beats