Are You Eksperyansed?

The House of Blues offers conclusive evidence that anyone who says they are bored of Harvard Square, let alone Cambridge
By Andrew R. Iliff

The House of Blues offers conclusive evidence that anyone who says they are bored of Harvard Square, let alone Cambridge or Boston, is simply not paying attention. A regular port of call for numerous off-the-beaten-track international bands, this past Saturday night the HOB hosted Boukman Eksperyans, a Haitian band whose music is a stew of global influences anchored in the traditions of “vodou” spirituality.

The nine piece band, including three percussionists and a drummer, literally rocked the House’s upstairs dancehall—stage lighting fixtures above the floor were swaying as the crowd bounced euphorically to the rolling Caribbean rhythms. The crowd, including a huge majority of Haitians and a flag or two, sang along with dreadlocked bandleader Theodore “Lolo” Beaubrun, Jr. and his wife Mimerose Beaubrun, who provided a female vocal counterpoint. The music was unrelentingly energetic, but at times suffered from being almost too eclectic. The dexterous guitarist served up ringing riffs that jived perfectly with the group’s pan-Africanist outlook but occasionally slipped into solos that were more reminiscent of Western self-indulgent guitar heroes: aimless, raucous and individualist, if technically impressive.

The rhythm section was, as with any world music group worth its salt, rock steady, the bass emphasizing depth and sparseness while the percussionists hammered away in sublimely coordinated abandon. They shifted from Congolese-style soukous compound rhythms to rubadub reggae stylings and even toyed with some straighter rock beats.

The House of Blues, with its motto of “Help ever, hurt never,” was a safe bet for Beaubrun to give free range to his political and spiritual beliefs, both those about wicked politicians and those about it being time to “unite what we say, what we think and what we do.” Though he was sometimes incomprehensible through crowd cheering and a creole accent, Beaubrun’s connection with his audience was palpable: when he bounced, they shook the floor. When his fist came up, the stage was obscured by a forest of raised arms. One of the percussionists also joined the two Beaubruns at the front of the stage, exhorting the crowd to wave hands and adding fragments of ragga verses to the groups melting-pot sound.

So, to borrow a phrase, if you are bored of Harvard Square, you are bored, if not of life, then of the world. Haitian “vodou” music at the House of Blues. Across the other side of the Yard, Salif Keita, the Malian musical master, was playing in Sanders Theatre. And you say there’s nothing to do at Harvard now because the final clubs are closed?

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