On Music: Parang December 14
Like most things in these parts, the origin story of Parang varies with the telling. The word is mysteriously ambiguous, spelled like a Malayan machete, but sounding of Spanish or French, spread first by the Catholic missionaries among the native converts. Parrando means “making merry,“ which makes more sense than does an Asian cutlass. In Hispañola, the same folk music is called Arguinaldo, although the Buena Vista Social Club might recognize it as Guarapos. Frequent lyrical references to continental Latin, however, trace the germ of Parang back to Venezuela, which likely carried over into Trinidad, as migrants moved into the hill country surrounding Paramin and the valley cocoa estates. Parang (pronounced “Puh-rung, emphasis on the first syllable) was an effective way to nurture the growing labor population with Jesus stories. Parang is indeed Trinidad’s singular Christmas music. Yet these carolers are no woolen-clad Dickensians—they sweat, they strum, they wail. And, they like to eat and drink, too, so listen to what the Pacendero sings:
“Ah give me bread and ham, together (pronounced, to-get-her) wit’ a pastel“ exclaims the old Lara Brother (or is it Sir Scruntle) in the famous song—“Ah wanna piece ah pork!“ Whoever it be, the man knows what he wants!
The most traditional songs of the genre are Todo Español y Todo Religioso, with titles like “Nacimiento“, “Annuncion,“ and the call-&-response “Estribillo.“ Parang is performed from October through December, climaxing on Christmas Eve, but not ending until Dia de Los Reyes in January, signaling the unofficial beginning of Carnival season.
In Paramin, small traveling groups go from door to door, playing a set, followed by a complimentary fete, then they continue on. The bigger bands have a couple dozen Pacenderos, including: a chorus of singers; one or two leads, riffing over the pulsing 4-4 and 5-4 beats, in fits and starts; nylon-string guitars, cuatros, mandolins, bandolas, violins and plucked cellos; and small wood blocks, tambourines, tablas, and shak-shak maracas; and lots of pork. The whole shebang can sound like Me and Julio Down By The Tropical Nativity Scene.
Increasingly, Parang is infused with Soca and Trini-English. Rembunction, for instance, is tired of receiving “drawers“ from “Mr. Santa Claus“, singing, “Ah go come to de Nort’ Pole and cuff yuh in yuh nose hole.“ The English version of Parang is much less reverent, much more cheeky-tongued, with one Trini fellow singing the “Spanish Parang,“ which is about delivering toilet paper to his Venezuelan “Mamacita,“ who is evidently deprived but really wants to dance.
Through Parang, young and old embrace the spirit of the giving season. Families sing along—even my own ironic students sing along—to celebrate a shared tradition. Hark the Herald Angel Sing this ain’t. I request one of their favorites, Spanish Woman, and the regal named Baron commences to wail. As previously mentioned, the man knows what he wants:
I see her and ah want her
Ah got to have her
oy yeah
ah want a Spanish woman
to marry me
play me ah Soca Parang, to move with me
Parang so nice and Parang so sweet ( Soca Parang)
whine up yuh waist and dance to the beat
( Inside de Parang )
ah doh want no sorrel or ginger beer
I aint drinkin dem ting dis year
this Christmas all I want is ah Spanish woman