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'In Port​-​au​-​Prince They're Picking Up' with Kidd Jordan and Carl LeBlanc

by Don Paul, Kidd Jordan, Carl LeBlanc

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about

Recorded during my two-hour session with several musicians at the Louisiana Music Factory on Nov. 5 2016.

Kidd and Carl are related as family.

More stills from Maryse's video and images from Haiti can be seen at

www.ur1light.com/post/in-port-au-prince-they-re-picking-up-with-kidd-jordan-and-carl-leblanc

Along with many, many, I think, worthy images and links to great Haiitians.

Video of the performance with Kidd and Carl is up on a youtube channel. that i'd forgotten. Please listen to this Bandcamp version--start around 15 seconds in; I tried over the past two days to improve sound with the Fine Tooth Comber, second-by-second remastering.

As always, I hope that you enjoy everything!

lyrics

As performed that day:

In Port-au-Prince they're picking up.
They’re picking up
Before the dawn,
Throughout the midday, burning heat,
And under the moon again.
They’re picking up
Along Toussaint L’ouverture,
Pétion, John Brown, and Dessalines.
Rock by rock,
Block by block--
Konbit! Konbit!
Their backs are straight,
Their voices calm,
As if they have had
To always bear baskets of rocks on their heads
And share precious water.


Four years ago
The earth quaked.
Buildings, bricks—overhead—underfoot—walls—
Exploded
Into dust.
Everything was turned upside-down.
Roofs became bathrooms, became basements.
In 35 seconds
Neighborhoods disappeared
As if they were struck by a bolt
From Ogun or
Some weird, millennial Harp.
Whole neighborhoods—
Dozens, hundreds, thousands—
Tens and hundreds of thousands gone.
35 seconds turned into a day,
A day like so long
A cloudy, cloudy, cloudy night.


Now, the tap-tap vans and buses
Wind up and down,
Their sides displaying molten colors
Of unforgotten forests,
Blood of Jesus and so much else that sustains.
Motorcycle-taxi drivers straddle their mounts
On earthen lots.
Vendors pile papaya, mango, oranges,
Every morning.
And still we see the gangs
Passing their rocks from hand to hand,
Block to block--Konbit!—Konbit—Konbit!—
As if each day they have
Drawn from the night’s
Drums, the nights’ drums that penetrate long past midnight,
Some sustenance
From obeisance
At spirits’ shrines.
Yes, their backs are straight.
Their voices calm,
As if they have always had to share
Precious water.
Such is the life
Of a people
Who have never been defeated.

credits


Kidd Jordan tenor saxophone
Carl LeBlanc banjo
Don Paul voice

license

all rights reserved

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