Black Soundscapes White Stages: The Meaning of Francophone Sound in the Black Atlantic

1 “Adieu Madras, Adieu Foulard” The Doudou’s Colonial Complaint

On departure, the amputation of his being vanishes as the ocean liner comes into view. He can read the authority and mutation he has acquired in the eyes of those accompanying him to the ship: “Adieu madras, adieu foulard . . .” —Frantz Fanon, Black Skin, White Masks If “to speak,” as Frantz Fanon argues, “means above all assuming a culture and bearing the weight of a civilization” (1–2), his reference to “Adieu madras, adieu foulard” quoted in the epigraph suggests the way “to sing” does the same.1 “Adieu” (in)famously inscribed the doudou, and critical ideas about “doudouism ,” into Antillean folklore, the French imperial imagination, and ultimately the emergence of anticolonial discourse. As a character in the repertoire of French colonial mythology, the doudou represents the Creole woman of color desperately in love with a French man but carrying the weight of French imperial civilization in the New World. Caged in by geography, culture, and color, she melancholically sings, in the “doux parler des îles” (“the sweet language of the islands ,” i.e., Creole), her hopeless plight of seduction, love, and abandonment. Bonjour! Monsieur le Gouverneur! Moin ka mandé ou en tit pétition Pou Doudou moin qui ka pati Hélas! Hélas! cé pou toujour (bis). [Good morning Mister Governor! I’ve come to make a request For my Sweetie who is leaving Alas! Alas! It’s forever (repeat).] Mademoiselle! Il est trop tard Les connaissements sont déjà signés Le bâtiment est à la rade Il va bientôt appareiller (bis). one “Adieu Madras, Adieu Foulard” The Doudou’s Colonial Complaint “adieu madras, adieu foulard” 21 [Mademoiselle! It’s too late The registry is already signed The ship is at the port It will soon set sail (repeat).] Bel bateau’ a qui dans la rade’ là Ou prend Doudou moin ou minnin’ i allé Chè Doudou moin qui ka pati Hélas! Hélas! cé pou toujour (bis). [Great ship at the port You took my Sweetie away Dear Sweetie who is leaving Alas! Alas! It’s forever (repeat).] (Refrain) Adieu! foulard, Adieu! madras Adieu! graines d’or . . . Adieu! collier choux Chè doudou moin qui ka pati Hélas! Hélas! cé pou toujour (bis). [Goodbye scarves, goodbye madras Goodbye grains of gold, goodbye necklace My sweetie is leaving Alas! Alas! It’s forever (repeat).]2 The designation of the interlocutor as a captain, lieutenant, or another rank in other versions of the lyrics, suggests the doudou has fallen in love with a French officer, but it also posits this interlocutor as paternal figure of authority .3 His (French language) denial of her (Creole language) “petition” enacts a colonial sentencing, a patriarchal “non” of the imperial father that marks her subject status. Her voice resonates as the site of an imperial injunction, a cut that inscribes her originary loss and lack. In this way, rather than a scene of final endings as its lyrics would suggest, “Adieu” serves as a primal scene of colonial subject formation as well as a mythical narrative staging this oedipal scene as the origins of French-Antillean imperial relations. Called by Martinican composer and singer Léona Gabriel-Soïme “the national song known throughout the world” (31), “Adieu” begins with a patient ascending melodic line made up of a major tonic arpeggio, musically hitting on the doudou’s farewell cry out. Rising up, the melody briefly stretches beyond the major triad chord to reach the sixth, the height of its determined aspiration, 22 black soundscapes white stages but its high musical resting place on the dominant tone cannot be maintained. While the melody’s steady climb up lasts for the first four bars, the musical fall back down happens in half the time, repeating once to complete the opening eight bar phrase. This repeated melodic descent that closes each verse suggests the sadness of the fall, through its relation with the relative minor, and a sweetness of the fall, through the interlaced thirds and the regular eighth note rhythmic frame to soften the landing. Just as there are many textual variants handed down and referenced through travel narratives and Antillean letters, musicians have recorded many versions of “Adieu” with French record labels taking interest in “exotic” and “colonial ” music in the interwar years. Mademoiselle Armelin recorded the song for Odéon in 1930, followed in 1932 by Nelly Lungla (a performer in Paris at the legendary...