Karen Ponzio Photos
Alvin Carter, Sr. speaks during Part One: The Drummer's Path portion of Diaspora Stories: Hartford at Best Video.
The Hartford-based Afro-funk fusion ensemble The Lost Tribe returned to Best Video on Saturday to screen the completed three-part series Diaspora Stories: Hartford a year and a half after sharing a preview of the project at the venue during a performance in 2022. This time, in addition to showing the completed version, the band would also be adding to the soundtrack during the film, as well as performing before, after, and in between.
The band described Diaspora Stories: Hartford as “highlighting the history and intergenerational nature of Hartford’s African and African Diasporic arts community.” It consists of three parts. Part One, The Drummer’s Path, features “Abu” Alvin Carter, Sr., Alvin Carter, Jr., Inara Ramin, Assad Jackson, and Jocelyn Pleasant. The second part, Is It Hip Hop?, features Jolet Creary and Studio 860. Part Three, La Source, features Damian Curtis with The Lost Tribe.
Pleasant welcomed everyone, noting that “a portion” of The Lost Tribe was performing Saturday — Pleasant on percussion, I‑SHEA on percussion and vocals, Assad Jackson on percussion and soundboard, Ghazi Omari on sound and spoken word, and Michael Carabello on keys — and had played at the venue many times since the group formed in 2017.
Pleasant explained how she had the concept for the film project two years ago and was able to go through with it thanks to a grant from Hartford through the Independent Artist Fund. “I wanted to create one film, that was my initial thought,” she said. “I wanted the film to focus on the history and the trajectory of African drumming and dancing in the Hartford community, something that is near and dear to my heart as someone that started playing this instrument right here at nine years old.”
She added, tapping her drum, “and here I am, many, many years later, still playing it.”
She spoke of how, while working on her degree in ethnomusicology, she began to wonder about the history of local communities as well as communities around the U.S. “where this drum is prevalent.” What did it mean to the people who play it? That question led her to focus on Hartford, where she grew up. She began talking to people she had met “in different phases of her life as a musician.”
Instead of one film, she made three, “as is typical with me,” she said with a smile. “I can’t do one thing.” Once she started gathering information, she thought, “man, this is a lot, in the greatest way possible.”
Pleasant then explained how the evening would proceed, saying the band would be “playing in and out of when the films are playing.” There would be “some in the film itself, some that’s us, and some together.”
“As I centralized this project and what a film means and what it means to show a film, I decided that The Lost Tribe as performers should be a part of it,” she said.
She also explained how, in putting the films together, she started with African drumming and dancing, and then ended up branching out into the Hartford community.
“I thought about the generations,” she said. “Who are some of the people of various generations who are contributing community wise to art forms, to dance, to music, to Black and African culture?”
She interviewed Jolet Creary, whose Studio 860 is “committed to hip hop dance and hip hop teaching,” and Damien Curtis, “who does wonderful things not only as a pianist and teacher, but as a hip hop producer.”
All of the people featured in the films “represent a piece of a piece of a piece of Hartford’s music community and music history, and also, coincidentally, my history and some of the people and places I’ve come across and helped me to get where I am today.”
The band began by creating a supple soothing sound that led into that first section. Photos and videos honored elders with reverence and poignance, including Chief Bey, Greg and Walter Ince, mama Cheryl Smith, and Dolly McClean.
“The drum’s the thing that took me through all of this,” said Chief Bey.
Part One saw Pleasant and Jackson in conversation with “Abu” Alvin Carter, Sr., Alvin Carter, Jr., and Inara Ramin in joyful remembrance of their introductions to drumming. Ramin talked about how he heard African drumming at the 1964 World’s Fair. It inspired him to play. Ten years later, after meeting Chief Bey, he found out that was who had played at the fair that day. As they talked about legacy, Abu said “they say go to the source, there’s source right here.” And as they all started creating rhythms by drumming on tables in the film, the band added to that rhythm and met them in song and celebration. Omar then came up to the mic to perform a searing version of his original poem, “Fugitive Rhythm,” and the band accompanied him with gusto — that trademark Lost Tribe sound that elevated his words and the vibe of the entire room.
After a brief break, the band came back for Parts Two and Three, still full of energy, laughing and having a blast.
“When you come to a Lost Tribe show, we have so much fun,” Pleasant said with a wide smile.
The second piece focused on Jolet Cleary and the dancers from her studio. The band added in its own music frequently as the dancers performed on the screen above, watching them with smiles and even cheering them on as they leaped, swirled, and twirled across the stage.
Cleary spoke at one point about teaching the next generation: “Find your voice in dance,” she said to them. “I can show you all these different things, but I want you to find what’s you. That was my journey, trying to find what was me. If I can continue that … that’s what it’s all for.”
The band played an extended piece into the third part, which focused on Damien Curtis. This was the most musically heavy film, and beats, keys, and sounds melded into one another, fresh and funky while also steeped in history. By the time it was all over, one had not only a sense of Pleasant’s musical influences, but a sense of her influence on others. Perhaps Pleasant might be influencing a new generation of filmmakers as well.
As the final film ended, the music did not. I‑SHEA got the crowd clapping along, and the band took off on another sonic ride into the stratosphere. I was told there were people dancing in the back. I know I was dancing in my chair. After the show was over, even when the venue was mostly cleared out, the band was still creating some fresh beats before packing up, which led this reporter to dance her way out to her car. As the films and the band confirmed, for many people, once the beat grabs a hold of you, you belong to it for the rest of your life.
