We meet pianist and composer David Bontemps at his home in Montreal. Outside, the air is fresh, but the idea of talking about Haitian classical music with the musician warms the soul and the ears. David hums a tune, convinced that we would easily recognize the melody. While the song is indeed familiar to me, I couldn't say its origin or name. "That's Nibo Ludovic Lamothe, who won the first prize at the Carnival in 1934. People don't know who wrote it, it's part of popular culture, but it's a Haitian classical piece."
Haitian classical music is a little-known cultural heritage. Its repertoire consists of pieces composed with the codes of European classical music, but which incorporate Haitian influences in the themes developed, the rhythms, the titles and lyrics. These pieces, which have been emerging since the 19th century, have unfortunately been very little recorded – something David Bontemps is remedying, by interpreting them and composing his own.
It was in his childhood home in Port-Au-Prince that music first found David. "It was quite eclectic. There was a lot of classical music, my father listened to a lot of old jazz, like Louis Armstrong, Nat King Cole, and then kompa." At young David's grandparents' house stood an out-of-tune upright piano, where all the cousins would tap.
In Haiti, the year 1986 marked the end of the Duvalier dictatorship, which had lasted 29 years. During their reign, music and arts were censored to avoid works unfavorable to the political regime. We then witnessed a resurgence of Haitian classical music and singer-songwriters. Eventually, local Haitian popular music, with voices like Emeline Michel and Sidon Joseph, gained momentum throughout the country.
As is often the case for parents who can afford it, David's parents enrolled the siblings in music lessons. David chose the piano. "I liked it, and little by little it became something that interested me more and more," says the musician. Alongside his studies, he studied with a master, the esteemed composer Serge Villedrouin, for over 10 years.
"He taught me everything, and retaught me." His teacher introduced him to the repertoire of Haitian classical composers. He remembers the first piece he learned: Paillettes, by Férère Laguerre… "He was a rather modern composer, the piece is bitonal, meaning the right hand is in E flat, and the left in E minor, and it's in counterpoint. So, really modern!"
That was just the beginning for the young pianist. He then met other comrades, as he calls them: the Haitian composers Ludovic Lamothe, Justin Élie, and Carmen Brouard. He also discovered the Haitian classical composition school, as well as the Sainte-Trinité music school, an important institution in the capital that trains the next generation of musicians. The philharmonic concerts presented by the students left a strong impression on the pianist. "The halls are full, people come. They appreciate the children learning Bach and Beethoven, but when there is a piece by a Haitian composer, it vibrates very strongly."
While it only reaches certain ears, Haitian classical music is not a new genre. "Not only has it always existed, but it is dynamic and alive," affirms the pianist. "Young people who practice a so-called classical instrument now are much more aware [of the existence of composers] than in my time," explains David, who has met several young musicians and composers in Haiti.
Flourishing Through Inherited Modes of Expression
In 2001, David Bontemps obtained his law degree from the State University of Haiti in Port-Au-Prince. The following year, he moved to Montreal to pursue law studies at the Université de Montréal. However, the call of music remained. In 2002, the renowned professor and musicologist Claude Dauphin, also of Haitian origin, presented him as "the next generation of Haitian composers." Since then, David Bontemps has never stopped playing, composing, recording, and interpreting the music that drives him.
"It's a universal language. Ears have no eyelids," declares the pianist. "Even when we are sleeping, or when we are babies, we are impregnated with the sounds around us. When we speak, whatever the language, we always have the accent of childhood." This constantly inspires his music and his playing. With the piano, the composer reproduces what he hears. "It's really a challenge to transcribe certain rhythms, it's very complex!"
The modern notation system with staves, widely used today, originates from Europe. "My teacher did it on purpose, he wouldn't give me the keys and would tell me 'try to find it yourself'. That piqued my curiosity even more," says the pianist.
He sees an inexhaustible creative source in his country. "The nationalist fiber provides beautiful sources, allowing us to delve into the traditions of a people, a nation, to dissect them and conceptualize them. At the same time, it allows for openness. These sources are ambassadors of the culture they originate from."
Like any music, that which expresses an attachment to a particular nation is imbued with what surrounds it. "Inevitably there will be interpenetration with other modes of expression, other genres, other cultures, other eras," explains the composer. Haitian classical music is born from this alloy. It is, originally, from associations imposed following the colonization of the territory by France. In 1804, Haiti gained its independence following a revolution and became the first independent nation founded by former slaves.
Yet, centuries could not erase the traces of colonization. The country inherited the systems and customs of the colonizers, which are still in place today. The Haitian constitution, moreover, was
written in French, which remains today one of the country's official languages. Haitian literature, very rich, is written in a creolized French – its words, but also its images, notes David.
"How to flourish and bring about what constitutes us through modes of expression that we have inherited and did not choose?", David wonders, regarding classical music. He evokes the German-Haitian composer, Werner Jaegerhuber (1900-1953), whose works he has performed. "He studied music in Germany, and even became a professor and conductor there." With the rise of Nazism, Werner Jaegerhuber fled the country and returned to live in Haiti with his family. "The first thing he did was go into the streets and transcribe the traditional Voodoo music." By reinterpreting themes, he composed several melodies. "He even wrote a mass in Latin with Voodoo themes. The bishop, a foreigner, almost excommunicated him. It devastated him, and he died a few years later," recounts David.
Haitian and Western traditions are equally valuable, believes David. He mentions rara music, associated with Voodoo. "It carries a message, a wisdom, you just have to open your eyes. If you present the same [music, the same stories], but associate them with another people, people are amazed," he laments.
During a concert given in a long-term care center (CHSLD), David witnessed a release of butterflies, referencing an Indigenous legend. If you confide a secret to the silent insect, it is supposed to go to the creator to grant the wish. "We have approximately the same legend in Voodoo tales, 'Papa Loko'."
Sounds, syllables, ideas, words, worldviews, colors, figures – everything is meant to be interpreted, to blend. Harmony, here musical, can also happen on a personal level. "We ourselves, descendants of colonized peoples, must make peace with the components of our past. It is still very painful for many," he confides. He hopes that his compatriots do not belittle one part of their identity compared to another.
Regarding the devastating effects of colonization that persist, the musician draws a parallel with the residential schools in Canada. As a child, he himself was educated in a congregational school. "Now I know what it was: an ethnocide. Failing to physically kill a people, we kill their essence, their soul, their culture, their language, their beliefs, their religion, their arts. Failing to kill that, we make it inferior so that, afterwards, we end up abandoning it. That is what happened to us. Now, we don't even need missionaries to do it, we do it ourselves happily. That is a wound," the composer evokes, regarding the grip of religion on many Haitians. "We can say 'religion so white'!"
"There are many words to put on the wounds we carry," explains the musician. That is where, according to him, art can play a role. "I hope that this kind of music, this blend, this crossbreeding, this hybridization – can allow that."
Self-hatred, insidious, first instilled by the occupier, is one of these wounds. That is what drives the demonization of a people's folkloric aspects, believes David. "What do we do with our compatriots who practice Voodoo?" He himself feels lucky to have been raised in a family where this ancestral practice was not depreciated, which is far from the case for everyone. "Despite everything, it was a long journey for me to recognize it as a source of interest like any other – to see that it is a source that belongs to me, and that people have preserved under the conditions we know."
He recounts an anecdote about this that happened when he was performing Offrandes Vodouesques, a cycle of 24 melodies by Werner Jaegerhuber, with soprano Chantale Lavigne, at the historic Chapelle du Bon-Pasteur in Montreal. "I played very badly that night." "But at the end, a gentleman with a cane, white hair, who had left Haiti a very long time ago, came to see us with tears in his eyes. It was powerful, because a Haitian man, of his age, doesn't cry in public. He said thank you, thank you, because he had always grown up and lived believing that it was diabolical music, and it touched him deeply."
In 2023, David Bontemps, accompanied by the Orchestre Classique de Montréal, presented the world premiere of La Flambeau, an opera of his own based on a work by Haitian playwright and writer Faubert Bolivar. It deals with social equity, Voodoo, zombies, and the result is stunning. The composer ensures that one can project oneself through the music. "I often come back to Frantz Casseus, a Haitian guitarist who was Harry Belafonte's director for a long time," says David, humming the tune of the well-known song, Merci Bon Dieu, often covered by international artists. "People think it's a traditional song, but it's Haitian classical music." And that is the significance of a classic.
