MUSIC OF THE EARTH: EXPLORATIONS IN THE FON FUNERAL REPERTOIRE OF

ZINLI

Curtis Andrews
MUS530
March 21, 2014

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Introduction

The scholarly study of African musical practice is imbalanced. Specific musical cultures of

Ghana, Zimbabwe, Nigeria, Uganda and several Central African countries form the basis of the vast

majority of dissertations, fieldwork, and theoretical conjecturing, as well as the source material for

practical instruction and experience of African music and dance in Euro-American educational

institutions. These cultures include the Ewe, Akan, Dagomba, Yoruba, Aka, and Shona-speaking

people, among others, as the focus of scholarly attention1. The reason for the focalization on this

handful of cultures, out of a continent containing hundreds if not thousands of distinct ones, can be

explained through various historical, scholarly, linguistic, economic and political occurrences and

agendas. The goal of this paper is to bring forth an example of an unfamiliar repertoire of music in

terms of its origins, the people who perpetuate it and how it is structured - the music of zinli, created

and enjoyed by the Fon people of southern Benin.

Benin, formerly known as the kingdom of Dahomey, occupies an interesting place in the

consciousness of the world. In the West, certain images and impressions arise upon hearing the word

“Dahomey”. To most, it is an unknown region, to others it has connections to the Trans-Atlantic slave

trade, human sacrifice, “voodoo”, and the popular Amazon female warriors. One author suggests that

the idea of “Dahomey epitomized everything negative that the Euro-American imagination of the

nineteenth and twentieth centuries wanted to believe about Africa” (Bay 1998:1). No doubt, this

imagination was nurtured over the centuries by the sensational tales of Africa by outsiders - travellers,

slave traders, missionaries, diplomats, who have coloured our collective imagination, often favouring

the exotic and extreme. While Sir Richard Burton gave popular and myopic accounts of Dahomean life

(Burton 1864), Dahomey/Benin and the Fon (the dominant ethnic group) are not wholly unknown in

1See Locke (1982), Berliner (1978), H. Tracey (1969), A. Tracey (1975) ( Jones (1959), Arom (1992), Nketia (1963),
Fiagbedzi (1977), (1975),Euba (1975), Agawu (1975), etc.

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the scholarly world either. Pioneering and influential American cultural anthropologist Melville

Herskovits published several ethnographies on the Fon kingdom of Dahomey, focusing on their history,

mythology, and present-day cultural practice offering a balanced and culturally relative viewpoint.2

A minority of publications represent ethnomusicological research and publication on Benin.

Foremost among scholars is Gilbert Rouget, who has dedicated several decades to researching musical

traditions in Benin. Though focused primarily on the Gun ethnic group in the southeastern area of

Benin, some of his work touches upon that of the Fon (Rouget 1985, 1996, 2001). Several other French

scholars have published research on Beninois music, but the output pales immensely in comparison to

studies from the period of 1940-present on other aforementioned musical cultures, especially the Ewe

of Ghana, Shona of Zimbabwe and Aka of Central Africa. Indeed, if we look at ethnomusicological

research focusing on African rhythm, that contested and elusive realm of African expression that no

one seems to be able to define and describe exhaustively, we find almost nothing in the record relating

to the drumming and rhythmic practices found among the Fon, especially if one is probing for specific

names of styles and repertoires. In my research I have found just one lonely English language article,

ironically written by a Brazilian ethnomusicologist (Lacerda 2007). As this researcher has discovered,

when looking for published research, or even on-line resources on the music of the Fon, one is left with

few to no sources. Thus, I must rely on personal experience and fieldwork as the source material for

this study.

My own practical experience with the music of the Fon, comes from three brief (less than 14

days each) visits to the historic royal capital city of Agbomey, in 2010, 2011 and 2013. Though I have

been studying and exploring the music of the Ewe-speaking people of southern Ghana during numerous

extended visits since 1999, the paucity of my experience in Agbomey has still yielded an enlightening

introduction into the rhythmic and drumming practices of one style of music called zinli.

2 see Herskovits 1938, 1967.

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The Fon

The Fon are the largest ethnic group in Benin, occupying territories ranging from the Mono

river eastwards to the outskirts of the capital, Cotonou and extending north to the historic royal capital

of Agbomey. Ethnically, the Fon are descendants of the Adja-speaking cluster of peoples, which

include today’s Ewe, Adja, and Fon of Benin, Togo, and Ghana. (Lawrence 2005:15) Historically,

these groups were of one name and organization, with origin and migration histories pointing to the

ancient kingdom (and city) of Tado as a main point in the narrative3. Around end of the fifteenth

century, internal and external unrest gave rise to a series of migrations with one branch of movement

landing in present-day Allada (Benin) that would eventually give rise to the kingdom of Dahomey. The

other major branch of migration was west towards what we know today as the walled city-state of

Notsie (Lawrence 2005:8). It is from Notsie that the Ewe of Ghana trace their ancestry.

Culturally, the Fon and Ewe share many aesthetic values and traits, specifically in the realm of

spirituality and artistic expression. Several traditional religious sects in modern Ghana have their roots

among the Fon (Korku, Yeve) and more than one Ewe musical genre originates from the Fon

(atsiagbekor, adzogbo, agbadza). The predominance of percussion and voice as the vehicle for musical

practice is shared by both groups, and the importance of idiophones dominates. The ubiquity of iron

clapper-less bells and the role they play permeates the scholarly discourse about West African music,

with great emphasis upon the “timelines” of the music of Ghana in particular. Personally, I find it

baffling that the bell culture of Benin has not been further explored by researchers, for among the Fon

and Gun-speaking people, there are multiple levels of temporal and perceptual complexity expressed in

their use of timelines, equal to or surpassing those found in the majority of literature to date.

3Migration narratives contain a mixture of conflicting and consenting views about those involved in the migration,
their historical appearance and influence over each other and the directions of their subsequent migration. I have
chosen to simply focus on the relation between the present-day Fon and Ewe.

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Timelines

One of the defining aspects of many styles of African music, especially among the cultures

spreading from southern Ghana to western Nigeria, is the prevalence and importance of what have been

termed “timelines” by specialists of African music4. Sometimes termed bell pattern or phrasing

referent, these timelines have a distinct and essential function as a referent for all other musical and

physical (that is, dancing) parts in an ensemble. Usually sounded on metal idiophones in the form of

clapper-less bells, and repeated with little to no variation during the course of dance/music, a timeline

is “a distinctly shaped and often memorable rhythmic figure of modest duration” (Agawu 2006:1).

Giving name to any phenomena solidifies it in a sense. It enables us to think about that “thing”, turn it

around in our minds, discuss it, share it, explore it. Further, a name defines and imposes limits. So it is

with the rhythmic entity that has become known as the “standard pattern” (see example 1), one of the

more ubiquitous of the many timelines that are found across west Africa.

Example 1

q q eq q q e

This “standard pattern” is the most popular of these timelines and for the Ewe of southern Ghana,

Togo, and Benin it is found in the majority of secular and sacred music. Its ubiquity explains the

volumes of scholarly research, attention, and importance given to this pattern and its qualitative,

quantitative and structural interpretation.

Much of the discourse surrounding African music focuses on the fascination with rhythm, a

fixation dealt with assiduously by Kofi Agawu, detailing the common concepts, adjectives and

characteristics that Euro-American and African (though in the mold of their Euro-American teachers)

4 Timelines make appearances in a number of African music styles, reaching down as far as Southern Africa, but the
explicit and pervasive performance of them on iron idiophones finds its greatest manifestation from Ghana to
Cameroon. Further, being found in music that is cyclic in nature, I feel term should reflect this circularity, why not
timecircle instead of line?

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scholars have assigned to African rhythm. In fact, he compiles a list of 38 concepts that relate to studies

of African rhythm, including: highly complex, innate, “syncopated past our comprehension”, cross-

rhythm, off-beat, polyrhythm, polymeter and many more. Much of the literature focuses on music

employing periodic structures in built upon values of 12 viewpoints, which engenders a multiplicity of

perceptions. From a purely mathematical viewpoint, the prevalence of the 3:2 rhythmic stream

pervades and the tendency express this ratio musically is an essential African rhythmic trait.

Zinli5

Oral histories point to zinli’s creation, in Agbomey at the hands of King Glele (1858-1889)

while he was a prince during his father King Guezo (1818-1858)), forming the drum-dance style on the

occasion of a funeral for his father’s friend. Since that time, zinli has retained its majestic status

occupies a place of prestige among the repertoire of Fon music due to its royal origins, indispensable

role in the funeral context, and in the last few decades, its use in more generalized festivities (baptism,

weddings, national celebrations) and as a popular music. Today, it remains one of the iconic Fon

cultural expressions, played at the vast majority of traditional funerals.

My introduction into the music of zinli was due to a set of serendipitous circumstances upon my

initial visit to Benin from neighbouring Togo. Just across the Ghana/Togo border, many small taxis

wait to carry passengers the distance from Lome to Cotonou. While waiting in one of these cars I

struck up a conversation with a Beninois-Canadian who would help my Ghanaian travel companion

and I enter Benin with minimal discomfort. After finding us some basic lodging, the next day he took

us to meet a musician friend of his who then put us in touch with an artist in the city of Agbomey, our

destination. Upon meeting that artist a couple of days later, I was introduced to the Zodji family, who

5For a video example of the instruments, singing and dancing of zinli, visit
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FA4p_KAYM6s

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have historical ties as royal drummers of the ancient kings of Dahomey. Presently, the head of the

family, Dah Zodji, oversees the affairs of his neighbourhood, including burials and the rituals/music

connected with death. Dah Zodji’s son Joel Zodji, who has inherited the role of master drummer and

ritual specialist from his father, became my teacher who I was to stay with and learn about traditional

music, primarily zinli.6 Through my time in Benin, I came to realize that the Zodji family is extremely

well known and respected in Agbomey and beyond, as musicians and ritual specialists.

Instruments of Zinli

The name zinli derives from its inclusion of several instruments that constructed with clay or

cement pots as their template, calling to mind the zevu (lit. “pot-drum”) used in some Ewe music in

Ghana and Togo7. There are three layers of sound and function among instruments:

1) a layer of drums: outlining phrases and/or evolving rhythmic dialogues

2) a layer of bells: outlining cyclic structure in general

3) a layer of shakers/rattles/handclaps: reinforcing cyclic structure

The zinli drum ensemble is comprised of the kpezinga and kpezinvi, both of which are of the

same shape, slightly fat at their base and quickly taper to a long column, one drum being slightly larger

than the other. This brings to our attention the morphologically-related kidi and sogo drums used by the

Ewe. The kpezinga/kpezinvi are traditionally molded from potter’s clay, covered with the skin of

antelope or goat and rope tensioned using a series of weaves and knots. They are played with the hands

and never with sticks, due to their fragile nature. Further, protection of each drum’s earthen body is

maintained by the attachment of a circular base of woven grass, which acts as a cushion between the

6 The fellow I met in the taxi, Malik, lives in Montreal and actually knew the daughter and son of a former bandmate
of mine from Angola (who lived in Newfoundland). Malik’s musician friend turned out to be none other than Stan
Tohon, the most famous tchingoume artists in Benin. Likewise, the artist Tohon connected me to in Agbomey was
visual artist Yves Kpede, also nationally recognized and revered. It was he who connected me with the Zodji family.
7 The French spelling of the Fon word for pot (zin) is phonetically identical to English spelling of the Ewe (ze).

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drum and the ground and to absorb vibrations generated by the playing of the instrument. Today, it is

common to still find the kpezin constructed from clay, but more durable versions exist with a layer of

cement covering the clay body, adding an extra layer of robustness and protection. Other designs exist

that use rolled and folded aluminum to create the body of the drum, with bolted tuning lugs for

tensioning.

The other drum, technically an idiophone, that is the identifier of zinli, is simply called a large

pot, the zin. Constructed of clay or cement, the zin is an orb-shaped vessel of about 18” in diameter

with a narrow neck of approximately 4” that leads to the one orifice on the vessel, in total resembling a

large gourd. It is not played with the hands or a stick but rather with a flap of leather (or discarded sole

of a sandal) that beats the opening, producing a generous bass tone. The zin also contains an air of

mystery and respect. From my experience with the Zodji family, all instruments have a special

structure built to house them, away from domestic dwellings. In fact, even playing the zin inside the

family compound, unless during a funeral, was frowned upon, thus disallowing me to actually learn its

function in detail. According to one source, traditionally the instruments would never be stored in one’s

house, but in the bush. This source goes on to say that after use in a funeral, the zin would be broken, as

a symbol of the journey of the human from the Earth to the spiritual realm.8 While the Zodji family

respects their instruments, after use in a funeral, they definitely do not destroy them.

The bells of zinli are 2-3 in number. Called gan in Fon, they are differentiated by size and

function. The largest gan, called gan daho, plays an undifferentiated stream of pulses (sometimes

doubled in a slightly higher-pitched gan). The smaller and highest-pitched gan, called gan kwe kwe,

plays a rhythm which functions as the main phrasing referent for zinli. Supporting the gan daho are a

pair of basket rattles called assan, usually woven out of rattan and a piece of calabash and filled with

8 See “rhythme zinli” in Sonorama: Sud du Benin

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seeds or pebbles, but these days more a durable version made of rolled metal or even woven metal are

found, adding to their durability and volume. Finally, the clapping of hands by members of the

ensemble adds a communal, and as well shall see, necessary layer to the instrumental milieu.

Instruments of zinli: Foreground (from left): zin, gan daho (2), gan kwe kwe, pair of assan (metal

construction); Background (from left): kpezinvi, kpezinga

Periodic Structure

My analysis will not focus upon the zin, for my knowledge of it is extremely limited in a

practical sense. My only sense of how it performs in the ensemble is that it generally follows the bass

strokes of the kpezinga and improvises upon and around their onsets. I will also not give attention to

the kpezinvi at this point as it also follows (or responds) to the kpezinga. Its importance should not be

lessened however, for it plays a key role in the performance of drum dialogues within zinli and also has

room to improvise. But in terms of metric underpinnings, the gan, assan, clapping, and kepzinga will

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be my main musical focal points to support my explanations and conclusions. One song will also be

presented to support some of my theories about metric points of importance and congruencies between

parts.

I will start my analysis of the periodic structure of zinli by presenting one notational possibility

of the assan and both gan, as seen in example 2.

Example 2 - gan kwe kwe with assan & gan daho

Notated in this manner, the metric structure clearly follows a binary, 8-pulse cycle, which consists of a

3+3+2 grouping. The incessant, isochronous 8th note pulsation of the gan daho and assan line up with

every onset of the gan kwe kwe cycle. There is minimal metric ambiguity. The assan/gan daho provide

a regulative beat, yes, but I would place more in the realm of the tactus. I will refer to this e level as the

pulse unit in the subsequent analysis.

Now, if we add emically-derived handclapping to this texture, our perspective changes

dramatically and our binary metric rug gets pulled out from under us. See example 3 for five different

ways that clapping occurs in zinli in relation to the gan kwe kwe. Dashed lines emphasize the relation

between the gan kwe kwe and clap 3, the point in time that basic dance steps occur, giving us a clue as

to the manner in which this cycle is actually marked from a Fon perspective, which I will define as the

regulative beat.

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 Example 39 – gan kwe kwe with clapping in order of density (low to high)

From the above, we can see misalignment between all parts and that it takes three full cycles of the 8-

pulse gan kwe kwe rhythm to match any of the clapping rhythms. In relation to the regulative beat

(Clap 3), each cycle of the gan kwe kwe actually displaces by one pulse until it completes its meta-

cycle and coincides with any of the clapping. Thus, our total cycle length is not 8-pulses, but 24. This

has deep ramifications. Binary division holds less currency on the macro-level. One pervasive

level of division, a ternary structure, is evident from each type of clapping. Clap 1 and 2 outline a

larger group of 6 e’s while Clap 3 outlines groups of 3. Clap 4 and 5 also have grouping at the

ternary level of the x, a higher level of subdivision than the e tactus/pulse.

With a regulative ternary pulse as a grounding factor, that of Clap 3 marking eight equal onsets

of three pulses each per 24 pulse cycle, we can continue with our analysis of the gan kwe kwe pattern.

9Rests have been omitted overall except in the gan kwe kwe. This is to allow the reader to see the texture
uncluttered but still allow the pulse division to be perceived visually.

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As it takes three cycles of this pattern to coincide with a particular clap, a ratio of 3:8 emerges.10 Three

cycles of the gan kwe kwe per eight regulative beats. So at a very basic and structural level, a deep

polyrhythm exists in zinli. This meta-cycle is analogous to concept of Arom’s macroperiod (Arom

1991:232). Ratios of 3:2 and 3:4 are ubiquitous in many styles of African music, especially at the level

of interlocking ensembles parts and/or drum dialogues, but rarely at tempos as slow as zinli and less

often as a decisive structural element covering such an extended cycle. The figure below outlines

several of the periodicities and ratios at play in zinli.

Figure 1

A A A
B B B B
C C C C C C C C
D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D D

MACROPERIOD

A:B:C:D = 3:4:8:16, where A= gan kwe kwe, B = clap 1, C = clap 3, D = clap 5

So how to notate this metric structure? 24 is divisible by 3, 4, 6, 8 and 12. We wish to avoid the

conflating notations of additive rhythm and multiple time signatures for each parts of the ensemble put

forth by Jones (Jones 1959). And the TUBS system, while allowing for ease of learning and reading of

certain repertoires (at a basic level), is not practical for subdivisions such as this (Koetting: 1970).11

Due to the preponderance of ternary divisions in the clapping patterns and the three-fold repeated cycle

10If we take clap 1 or 2, the ratio of 3:4 emerges. With claps 4/5, 3:16.
11A TUBS row of 12 8th note pulses, as is used for music using the “standard pattern”, should actually have 24 pulses
to allow for the 16th note triplet level of sub-division, already difficult to read. In the case of zinli, this would have to
be doubled to 48 boxes to represent one full cycle and all levels of subdivision.

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of the gan kwe kwe, a metric structure of 24/8 would seem most suitable. In the notation of the

“standard pattern” of 12 pulses, one can generally find it notated as two measures of 6/8 or one of 12/8.

Justification for 6/8 being that the indigenous regulative right/left dance step occurs every 6 pulses,

each foot marking a group of three. While we could use 2 measures of 6/8 to reflect division by dance

step, to understand (and visually represent) the full cycle, there are several reasons I prefer to use 12/8

as a notational choice: 1) because it is truer to the actual metric length of the pattern and 2) it avoids the

use of barlines and ties when crossing the bar, which can cloud the reading experience, especially when

notating certain drumming patterns. Thus, I choose 24/8 (for zinli) for the same reasons 12/8 is utilized.

Example four is a re-notation of the zinli texture, representing the aforementioned ternary division of

24/8 that the clapping patterns engender.

Example 4 - Metric structure of 24/8, with gan kwe kwe grouping outlined

With a more accurate picture of zinli, we can borrow further terminology from Arom, to

classify the rhythmic identity of zinli in several ways and explain some of the difficulty an outsider will

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encounter when trying to understand this repertoire. The defining and overarching rhythm, that of the

gan kwe kwe, according to Arom is as follows:

 (Morphologically) uniform: based upon a repetition of a single pattern whose position in

relation to the regulative beat varies with each recurrence. In this case, it displaces by a
pulses with each repetition.
 (Metrically) irregularly contrametric: the pattern is predominantly on the offbeat of the
pulse (contrametric) and the relationship to the regulative beat is not always the same.
 (Structurally) regularly asymmetric: the whole pattern repeats without variation but cannot
be divided equally into multiples of two, but can be divided into three equal parts.

Qualifying the Circle/Cycle

Approaching a firmer grasp of the structural relationships interacting with the instrumental

texture of zinli, we are still left with one question that arises when we try to find the beginning of a

circle, as futile as that may sound. Any ostinato/timeline/bell pattern/phrasing referent is represented as

a circle. Anku has demonstrated the efficacy and cultural relevance of conceiving of African music in

this manner (Anku 2000:2).12 Many, if not the majority, of timelines are differentiated and contain

onsets that have a discernable relationship to each other and the regulative beat, thus allowing for the

identification of (relative) beginnings and endings of the pattern. In the “standard pattern” for example,

we have seven onsets of unequal durations and form, allowing us to perceive its shape with relative

ease in relation to itself and the four regulative beats. 50% of the regulative beats occur at onsets of the

pattern. Further, of 12 total pulses per cycle, seven are marked yielding a percentage 58.3%. (see figure

2)

12 For my own enhanced circular representation of zinli, see Appendix 2.

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 Figure 2

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Pattern X X X X X X X

Regulative Beat (RB) X X X X

Common Beat (CB) X X

Other timelines, such as the gan kwe kwe in zinli, are uniform in nature, which presents

ambiguity when viewed etically. The 8-pulse cell is repeated three times without variation, nesting a

cycle within a cycle. Only 37.5% of the regulative beats occur at onsets of the pattern, three of eight. Of

24 total pulses per cycle, nine are marked yielding a percentage of 37.5%. (see figure 3)

Figure 3

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

Pattern X X X X X X X X X

RB X X X X X X X X

CB X X X

What do these percentages mean? On a very essential level, when one needs to find the beat and

subsequently the character of the circle/cycle, the “standard pattern” yields more clues as to its shape

and relation to the regulative beat and makes the connection easier to perceive.

Discerning the nature of the cycle vis-à-vis the beat in zinli becomes further involuted due to

several other factors. The gan kwe kwe is the highest frequency of the instrumental texture and creates

the effect of a sonic black hole, swallowing the aural attention one may have. It pulls your ear towards

its binary structure. The intermittent and quiter hand clapping of dancers/singers, in contrast, marks the

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regulative beat.13While Clap 3 is possible and performed, it is much more common for participants to

materialize Clap 1, 2, or 4 and to express the regulative beat in their dance steps. Variation and

individual style appear in this realm as well, with some dancers steps marking off-beat steps and/or

beat sub-divisions at a faster or slower pulse level. The effect of course contributes to the ambiguity of

“finding the beat” and the identity of the overall gan kwe kwe cycle. Finally, volume-wise, all clapping

can be shrouded by the incessant play of the assan and gan daho (often doubled) and of course the

complex interplay of the kpezinga, kpezinvi and zin. Added to all of the foregoing is the sparseness of

the pattern of the gan kwe kwe and the slow tempo of the regulative beat (q. = 65), which creates more

“time” between all onsets and thus more room for ambiguity in perception of where the regulative beat

may be found.

“Le Point de Connection”

When one is tasked with singing a song or performing drum dialogues within the texture, it is

imperative that one be cognizant of what my teacher Joel Zodji calls the “point of connection” (POC).

This point tends to be where the majority of layers meet with the gan kwe kwe, in our above, example

either beat 1 or 3. So which is it? Zodji indicates to me that it is actually beat 3. Thus, our gan kwe kwe

cell should now be rewritten as 2+3+3 / q q. q. as opposed to 3+3+2 / q. q. q . In that case, I shift the

whole cycle so that beats 1-2-3 of example 4 now become beats 7-8-1. See example 5 below for a

correct representation of the texture with this POC outlined on beat 1.

Example 514

13When one dances, clapping is not common, and must cease, only to be picked up by another
member or when you return from the dancing area.
14 I will omit Clap 2 and 4 for this example as they reinforce their related, and in my estimation, more structurally
essential counterparts.

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 In the above example, we have outlined a conceptual beginning to our cycle, but beats 7-8 still

outlines an area of musical importance and emphasis. Clap 3/5 and two onsets of the gan kwe kwe

meet on these beats and beat 7 contains the same number of congruities between parts as does our

POC, beat 1. It is at this location (beat 7) that songs and drumming patterns align with the gan kwe kwe

and a sense of momentum builds and resolves into the POC.15 This attention towards a perceived

resolution point is also found in a diverse array of southern Ewe dance-drumming styles, whereby beats

1,3,4 are emphasized by ensemble clapping and at times, specifically by instruments. An outsider may

hear these three onsets as “1-2-3 (4)” (see figure 4)

Figure 4 – momentum leading into resolution point in several Ghanaian dance-drumming styles

(clap on bottom, phrasing referent on top)

15 This ambiguity as to the “beginning” of a cycle is not easily clarified. But in this music, should it be? The rhythmic cues
for starting and stopping zinli themselves do not begin nor end at any of the above-mentioned congruent points. As a
performer (musician/dancer) all you are looking for is a referent, not a beginning/ending. Both beat 7 and 1 (in ex.5) are
equally valid and do occupy a certain amount of gravity in terms of resolution, variation and momentum.

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Drumming and Song

Example 6 – basic kpezinga rhythm with ensemble texture; x=closed strokes

Example 6 shows a very basic rhythm that the kpezinga plays. Its ternary phrasing aligns with

all clapping levels, but creates less congruency with the gan kwe kwe. It is composed of two motifs: the

first, two open strokes followed by 4 closed strokes (A). This is repeated three times until the second

motif of four open strokes (B), which aligns with both the gan kwe kwe and beats of Clap three. The

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temporal location of motif B and its connection to the gan kwe kwe builds momentum into the POC. In

Arom’s terminology, the full phrase (A & B) is:

 (Morphologically) multiform: composed of two or more different configurations (A and B)

 (Metrically) regularly commetric: the pattern falls predominantly on the regulative beat and
the relationship to the regulative beat is always the same.
 (Structurally) regularly symmetric: the whole pattern can be divided equally into multiples
of two

To further illustrate the relationship of the gan kwe kwe to other performative aspects of zinli, I

would like to present one song and detail how it entwines with the overall texture. The song in

question, “Akaba Akaba” follows a call and response format.

Example 7 - song only

From the notation, we can see that the song contains ternary (“Kaba –Kaba”) and binary

elements (“yo yo yay….”) leaving little clue as to how this would correctly align with the gan kwe kwe

pattern. The song seems to align naturally in three possible places shown in example 8, where the

ternary phrase of the song aligns each of the three ternary section sections of the gan kwe kwe. Note

however, that only the first position aligns the opening ternary phrase of the song with both the gan

kwe kwe and the regulative beat.

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 Example 8 – three possible alignments of “Akaba Akaba” with gan kwe kwe

Example 9 – “Akaba Akaba” correct position, with regulative beat, gan kwe kwe and kepzinga

As is shown in example 9, the point where all ternary phrases align points to the correct

placement of the song within the rhythmic texture. The identical phrasing between the song and the B

motif of the kpezinga further reinforce this choice.

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Conclusion

From this basic introduction into the music of zinli, we have principles of deep polyrhythm

operating on numerous levels. This is a state in which music can be coherent from several perspectives

at the same time, termed “simultaneous multidimensionality” by some (Locke 2011:70), or the

“kaleidaphonic” nature of African music by others (Tracey 1970:50). The phrasing referent, by its own

design, fosters perceptual ambiguity in a task as simple as finding the beat. Alone, it would be less a

daunting task, but in combination with the levels of polyrhythm exhibited by the other instruments,

dancers, singers and hand claps, multiple beat streams present themselves and jostle for one’s attention.

Notions of on-off-beat, rhythmic syntax and inherent rhythms of African music have not been

discussed in-depth, nor has the full depth of the rhythms of the kpezinga and kpezinvi. This would

require further research and analysis to uncover the methods and processes drummers use to navigate

this thick dimension of polyrhythm.

Finally, when speaking of polyrhythmic music of this sort, terms and signifiers such as

“contrametric”, “cross-rhythm”, “3 against 2”, and a sense of conflict and tension are continually

invoked by analysts. Compared to the characteristics of the gan kwe kwe, which are “against” the

regulative beat and metric structure, the kepzinga is very congruent with the regulative beat and metric

underpinning, as is the nature of the song used in this study. When issues of incongruency between

perceived metric structure and sound arise, I prefer not to perpetuate the idioms of “conflict/against”

and think a more positive term for this phenomena of exciting energies would be “interest”. The

interaction between all that we have seen thus far creates palatable rhythmic interest and excitement, as

opposed to boredom and stasis. It generates vitality, motion, and dynamism - essential aspects to

African musical practice.

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 Appendix 1

Explanation of “Akaba Akaba”

Language: Fon

Call: Akaba Akaba yo yo ye

Response: Ah yay eh yo yo yay

Translation/Meaning: This song, as was explained to me, is a song of celebration of

King Houessou Akaba, an early king of Dahomey, which could have been sung during

his celebrations and/or processions. (reign: 1685-1716). Born-?, Died: 1716)

Today, it would be sung as homage to the former kings of Dahomey and their

descendants. The only actual word in this song is “Akaba”, the other text of the song are

vocables and have no direct translation or linguistic meaning but are used as a form of

“cheering” an individual or group.

Note that in singing this song, the “A” of the name Akaba is often omitted or

“swallowed” by singers.

Appendix 2

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A circular representation of the timeline, beat and pulse streams in zinli; read left to right

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Videography

Sonorama: Sud du Benin. Paris: Cosmonote. 2004. Interactive DVD.

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