Rabòday, is a Haitian music genre popular amongst Haitian youth. It rose from the ashes of the earthquake in 2011, providing a voice for a disaffected generation. Unlike the slow and sensual Konpa, Rabòday is electric. In a music scene dominated by Konpa and rap kreyol, Rabòday occupies a unique place. Fresh La of Vwadezil is commonly referred to as the King of Rabòday, and popular DJs include Tonymix, DezodBeats, etc.
The rhythm of Rabòday comes from the drum patterns of rara and traditional rasin music. These drum patterns are a relic of the African ancestry of Haiti’s ancestors and are heavily associated with Vodou. Though rara and rasin are enjoyed by much of the Haitian population, they are simultaneously looked down upon for their association with Vodou and African culture. For some, anything related to African spirituality is demonic. Most detractors have much softer views. The music, and the culture associated with it, are viewed as primitive, low-class, and somewhat un-fashionable. Many view the adoption of Western culture as more modern, cooler, and thus more desirable.
Pressured to sacrifice roots for the sake of modernity, djs took a different route. They unapologetically embraced these roots, and in doing so, created something distinctly modern. Rabòday used traditional drum patterns to make beats, and interpolated it with electronic music. The result: new age party music.
The lyrics are typically raunchy and vulgar. At the same time, it can also be overtly political. Oftentimes, artists call out corrupt Haitian leadership and meddling foreign elites. They give voice to a people who are both fed up but disillusioned with the idea that things could ever change. The somber message can contrast sharply with the energetic, dance-friendly musical component. It reflects the resilience of the Haitian people, able to have a good time despite their tribulations.
A great example of this is Vwadezil’s 2015 Kanaval jam, “Kite Ti Pati’m Kanpe”. Pati, here, is a double entendre. It can mean political party, making the hook “let my (political) party stand”, a call for political stability. “Pati” can also mean part. Then, the hook translates to “let my little part… stand”.
Or, this jam about the coronavirus:
Rabòday offends the norm of more conservative, straight-laced Haitian society. Unsurprisingly, it is also the music of choice for much of Haiti’s youth. It has even overtaken Konpa, the smooth, sensual merengue, as the genre of choice for parties, fetes, and the like. The differences between the two genres can be stark. One speaks about romance, love, and frolics in the use of flowery language. The other is raunchy, irreverent, and overtly sexual. Konpa is a Latin dance between two partners, that can be as platonic or as sensual as you want to make it. Dancing to Rabòday … is a different vibe altogether.
It is easy to characterize it as another countercultural movement turned mainstream. Almost everything about Rabòday flouts evangelical, bourgeois norms. But it is much more than that. In a world that associates modernity to Western culture, Rabòday is defiant. It represents people who refuse to abandon themselves for the sake of progress. And, ironically, by doing so, it brings the Haitian music scene to the 21st century.
Hopefully, Afro-Rabòday rise foreshadows Haiti’s future: progress through returning to its roots, not by abandoning them.
