Song Zin'… means "I'm Gonna Tell You"
in Medumba, my mother tongue in Cameroon, Central Africa
(song = "tell"; zin' = "you"). But
zin could also mean "to walk." If you mix
English ("song") and Medumba (zin = "to
walk"), Song Zin'… refers to "A Walking
Song," i.e., a free, daring and inventive song
that is going forward, following a path off the beaten
track.
As we walk and take the journey of life, stories are
told. With the wind of voice, I am continuing to tell
the stories begun by my ancestors, who were known, throughout
the generations, as Ntontah ("horn players").
They were travelling musicians, moving from one place
to another, "walking" their music in a way.
Like them, I want to be a voice-teller. I want to tell
stories with my body and voice, inventing ways of playing
with them. Music has the unequalled power of talking
to individuals, of touching them, wherever they come
from, through the sharing of an authentic emotion, which
transcends the boundaries of language. Music helps people
come closer to each other, despite any cultural differences
that divide them. Just through emotionally-based melodies
that resonate in the listener's body and mind.
Sometimes people ask me how I define myself in terms
of music. My answer is simple: I don't feel I belong
to any style. My music is simply about the encounter
and the interaction of sounds. It reflects my own story,
my travels and journey through life. From my childhood
in Cameroon to my years in France until now, living
in New York, I have encountered a wide variety of faces,
sounds, rhythms and cultures that have touched my soul.
I have crossed many borders and have become a kind of
blend myself - even though I remain deeply imbued with
my Cameroonian roots.
When I write a song, it's just like painting. I see
colors, shapes and images dancing in my head. Voices,
melodies and rhythms can tell stories without words.
In fact, they have their own universal language. In
my village, there is a lullaby with the lyric "Don't
Cry Baby." But, in a way, the words are not important
because the sound itself is soothing. It doesn't need
lyrics to tell the story and talk to people. If you
listen to my songs, you'll notice that the tone of my
voice is talking by itself. When I perform in Europe
or in the U.S., people don't understand my language.
Yet they enjoy the music. They can feel whether it's
a sad or joyful story.
I once performed at a festival in Palermo, Italy,
with 4000 people in the audience. I asked them to
"play along" by gently rubbing their palms
together, not clapping. The music produced by the
combination of all these individual small "voices"
was wonderful, and I sang on top of it. Imagine all
these people doing the same thing. It's unbelievable,
very spiritual, peaceful.
That's what my music is all about: I would like every
person who listens to my album to breathe it, dance
to it, smile, fly, feel peaceful. I want people to
experience my music the way they want, with their
own sensitivity. Life is a precious gift. Being able
to do something, to walk, to talk, to hear, to see,
to listen, to smile, to feel an emotion is a wondrous
opportunity. I think it's important never to forget
about these great blessings. That's what I want to
tell with my music.
Gino Sitson
|
The
Colors in my Head