In conversation | On konpa’s 70th, legend reflects on the genre’s rise from Haiti to the globe

SPRING VALLEY, N.Y. —  Not too many Haitian konpa artists can say they surpassed rock stars on a music chart in their heyday, recorded songs in between the crowning of roosters, or triggered the development of a whole new genre. One of the few who can is Jean Yves “Fanfan Tibòt” Joseph, a founding member of Tabou Combo, Haiti’s legendary 57-year-old band and one of the few original konpa groups still performing today. 

As we mark the 70th anniversary of konpa—birthed officially on July 26, 1955—we turned to Joseph for a walk through the music genre’s evolution, from its earliest days in Port-au-Prince as an offshoot of merengue to its emergence as a global export. Since Tabou’s founding in 1968, Joseph has had a front-row seat to the many stages of the genre through the years. At times, he was in the driver’s seat as his band experimented with new inspirations and technologies that helped it reach the apex of world music. 

Joseph generously provided a rich historical overview of konpa, from its origins in 1950’s Haiti to its global reach in the 1980s and current challenges as technology continues to impact creative content everywhere. He shares deeply personal anecdotes, his own migration story as a dyaspora, and insightful perspectives on the genre and his current concerns. 

The Haitian Times sat down with Joseph in June at in Spring Valley, N.Y., where he lives and operates two businesses next to each other in a modest strip mall, La Baguette Dor Bakery and Patisserie, as well as the La Baguette Bistro, a restaurant and lounge adorned in Haitian art along its walls.

The interview below has been condensed and edited for length and clarity.

Macollvie Neel / The Haitian Times: Fanfan. Thank you so much for letting us join you in Spring Valley for a little bit to talk about konpa reaching its 70th anniversary, what it’s been like for you.

Jean Yves ‘Fanfan” Joseph: Well, yes, here we are, 70 years since konpa started in 1955—I’m so happy and I’m so proud to be part of that, one of the people who promoted konpa throughout the world. 

THT: Tell us about that journey from your perspective.

Joseph: Konpa started in 1955, and Tabou Combo was created in 1968. We are the second [or third] generation, coming right after Shleu Shleu, Les Fantaisistes de Carrefour. 

THT: Take us back there – where it came from and how all these bands you mentioned created the very first generations of konpa.  

Joseph: From what I’ve witnessed and heard, konpa is from the Dominican Republic. I know I’m going to get a lot of heat for saying that, but I have to tell the truth: The Dominican Republic was very influential in creating that chance. One specific guy named Ángel Viloria, a Dominican artist, used to come to Haiti a lot – crossing the border and playing [merengue] music. He had a broad audience among the young people, the upper class and everybody. 

The Haitian musicians were kind of like, ‘Who is this guy?’ We were watching him going out with our girls, filling in the clubs and everything. Nemours Jean-Baptiste had his own band then. He decided to play the same music as Viloria, but with a slower beat appropriate for Haitian culture.

THT: Before Viloria was coming in and playing merengue, what were Haitians playing then? 

Joseph: The Haitians were mostly playing troubadours, with a trio of guys playing small venues and all this stuff. With the American Occupation, big band jazz was also brought to Haiti— Count Basie, Duke Ellington. Guys like Nemours, who was a sax player in a big band, started to reduce the format [size] to play in clubs. In 1955, they gathered with a bunch of guys, among them Richard Duroseau, and created Ensemble Aux Calebasses. The first concert was at Place Saint-Anne in Port-au-Prince. It was free – everybody came.

THT: What exactly did Nemours Jean-Baptiste do with the sound to make it new?

Joseph: He slowed the beat down and sang in Creole. He brought his own culture, his own language, his own genre—and created konpa. Throughout the years, konpa evolved. Now, we have a totally different konpa from what Nemours created. 

THT: Before we get to that evolution, tell us about your first time hearing konpa music? 

Joseph: I was walking to school, at five, six years old, when I first heard it. But I started listening to music when I was about 13, 14. Nemours had very catchy songs and he called it “commercial” to be simple and direct, to the point, so people can catch it from the first beat. It’s konpa direk. Nothing complicated – easy chords, easy to follow – so people can just enjoy themselves. Nemours said it in his song.

Once Haitians got their own music, they weren’t paying attention to Dominican music anymore. People just overwhelmingly just took the scene. 

THT: Take us back to you know like your first bal—not as a musician playing, but as a fan?

Joseph: Oh yeah. There’s a guy who used to live in Pètion-ville whose band was called Jazz des Jeunes. When he was going to bals, he used to take us to this place, Djoumbala, in an area called Freres. Myself, Jean-Claude Jean and a few other guys used to go listen.

Music is a part of Haitian culture—very, very, very much part of our culture. Besides playing soccer, that’s the only other thing [for fun] you would do.

THT: So how did you start discovering your love for music to the point where you joined a band?

Joseph: To tell the truth, I never thought I’d be a musician. Never in my wildest imagination. But I grew up in Pétion-ville and went to the Lycée de Pétion-ville with André Dejean, Hermann Nau. These guys were musicians from the get-go. I was a soccer player, captain of the Lycée team. Jean-Claude Jean was my best friend—and he was into music. He used to go to rehearsal with Tabou Combo on Sundays, so I’d go to rehearsal and wait for him to hang out afterwards. 

One day, Tabou Combo had an argument with the conga player, and he didn’t show up to play [at a kermesse]. The band couldn’t stop, so Jean-Claude said, ‘Epa Fanfan la [Fanfan’s here].’ So I played. I don’t even remember what I did.

THT: Did you eventually learn to play the conga?

Joseph: Yes. There was a guy who used to play congas—Pierre. He showed me how to play conga, for 20 cents for each lesson. I became good enough to do a recording. There was no such thing as punching a computer. You had to play live, on point, every time. I miss those days.

THT: What did actually recording a song look like?

Joseph: There was one guy, Widmaier, doing the recordings. Our first album was recorded on two tracks. So there was this club called Djoumbala, the owner was a cock fighter and he had a gagè in the backyard. We went into the nightclub to record the album and every time we started, we heard ‘coo coo coo,’ ‘coo coo cook’ from the cocks. At 7 o’clock, they all stopped and that’s how we recorded the album. When they went to sleep. 

Making the band, the first time 

THT: Talk about the composition of a classic konpa band. Before technology, what were the main people needed? 

Joseph: Formation was: Two guitars and a bass, like The Stones and the Beatles. For rhythm purposes, conga—which was very much part of Haitian culture—along with the gong and an accordion, since the keyboard was non-existent, and, the vocals. 

For rhythm purposes, we added conga—which was very much part of Haitian culture—along with the gong and an accordion…

THT: How was that different from say the formation that Nemours Jean-Baptiste had? 

Joseph: Nemours Jean-Baptiste had the big band influence. He’d have trumpets and four saxophones. That formation came under the influence of Duke Ellington and Count Basie. But when the Stones and the Beatles came, it was a new generation of music playing with all this rock and roll 

THT: How did the fans respond? 

Joseph: I remember one day they told us our song we recorded, Gislene, was going to play at 8 o’clock on the radio. At the time, we rehearsed in the open air at Albert Chancy’s house, in the backyard. That day, the same kids who used to watch us rehearse, the whole neighborhood, gathered around a small radio we had. I held the small radio [up] high. When they started playing the song, the whole neighborhood erupted—’Oh my God.’ That was crazy. 

THT: I understand different neighborhoods had their own bands—that’s how the polemics started. 

Joseph: There are always polemics. When you’re young, you’re always trying to put your mark in the world. There are polemics between the Beatles and the Stones. It’s always like that, but it wasn’t anything bad. It was like motivation, I’m trying to be better than you. That’s human nature.

THT: At that time, a lot was going on politically in Haiti. How did politics end up touching you or the band after a while?

Joseph: I would not say that politics affected Tabou Combo directly. I mean, we had some interaction with some jealous husbands who were politicians because their girlfriends used to come to the band. 

I mean, there’s always politics in Haiti. With Haitians, when something is done, people would ask you, ‘Who was president then? Under which president?’ That makes its way into the music. Politics is a very, very important part of Haiti, unfortunately. It brings a lot of hatred, a lot of anger, a lot of stress. 

THT: How does that chaotic environment affect the music itself? 

Joseph: Well, musicians cannot evolve as much. There’s always some turmoil. They cannot go to the studio because the roads are blocked. You cannot go to perform because there’s a curfew. It’s always something. Politics has too much clout in Haiti. 

Remaking the band abroad

THT: It’s the reason so many people ended up leaving Haiti in the 60s and 70s. Why did you have to transition to the U.S.?

Joseph: The band disbanded in Haiti because our parents didn’t like the idea of us being musicians. At first, they thought it was a very nice activity. If somebody has a birthday, you come to the house and the band plays for free. When our music started being played on the radio and everybody liked it, we got contracts all over the place. Albert Chancy’s father said, “I don’t think Albert is going in the right direction,” so he shipped him to Canada.

• Images from Tabou Combo’s early years in New York and fan memorabilia. Courtesy of Jean Yves Joseph and TabouCombo.com.
• Images from Tabou Combo’s early years in New York and fan memorabilia. Courtesy of Jean Yves Joseph and TabouCombo.com.
• Images from Tabou Combo’s early years in New York and fan memorabilia. Courtesy of Jean Yves Joseph and TabouCombo.com.
• Images from Tabou Combo’s early years in New York and fan memorabilia. Courtesy of Jean Yves Joseph and TabouCombo.com.

We had a [farewell] party. Everybody was crying. And I remember this guy who used to be a famous DJ on the radio came and said, ‘Well, Tabou Combo will never die.’ After that, we all started traveling. Back then, Haitians traveled. We were respected all over the world. They didn’t think ‘I’ll go to a place and stay.’

THT: How did you all end up in New York?

I ended up going to Chicago in ‘71, ‘72 to continue my studies. My godmother was living there, but the other guys who came to New York—Kapi [Yvon Andre] came to New York. Jean-Claude Jean came to New York. Hermann came to New York. They found other players and they said, ‘Why don’t we put the band back together?’ I was getting a lot of calls, the guys saying, ‘We’re waiting for you.’ I was in Chicago trying to move on with my life. But I couldn’t find work, and it was cold as hell. So I told my godmother, ‘I’m going to New York.’

THT: What was performing here like at that time?

Joseph: The Haitian diaspora was almost non-existent. Brooklyn had only a few Haitians and Queens. Miami has the most Haitians, but there was no community. When we’d go to Boston, nobody showed up because there was nobody there. So that’s when we said to ourselves, we need to make something.

THT: So, how did you make it day to day? Did you move in with friends, the band guys?  

Joseph: You’re going to laugh at this. The manager of the band had two bedrooms and he was married. So, he gave one bedroom to Shoubou [lead singer Roger Eugene]. I was living there, in the same bed with Shoubou—a queen size bed. Me being a spoiled brat, I didn’t even know how to wash my clothes. Shoubou washed my clothes.

THT: Oh, wow! And, where in New York was this? Do you remember the apartment?

Joseph: Shepherd Avenue in East New York. It was the hood. But I didn’t know the difference then.

THT: Did you end up working as a full professional musician then? Or you found a job? 

Joseph: Music was still a pastime. I was a security guard at a clothing store, Rainbow Shops, making $2 an hour. I came home with $60. I then lived in a basement on Linden Boulevard with the other band manager, and my rent was like $50 a month. The men used to rehearse in that same basement. So on Saturday, we were rehearsing in my room. 

I also went to mechanic school. It was the only school that would accept me without papers, so I said. ‘What the heck?’ After graduating, I worked for one week! I got another job as a chauffeur at the United Nations for the Congo Mission. I worked there for 10 years. 

THT: And how had the formation of the band itself changed by then?

Joseph: We have synthesizers on the scene. The first synthesizer was called a Moog. So we used that in certain recordings, but we didn’t have a keyboard player. The first time we had a keyboard player was in ‘Kité’m Fè Zafèm.’ Ernst Marcelin—He was a jazz player and fit in because he introduced that sophistication in the konpa. Unfortunately, he got shot after a gig at Le Manoir in Brooklyn. He got shot in this car. They stole his keyboards or something like that. 

What Kassav did with us is exactly what Nemours did with Angel Viloria. It was like a pride thing, a nationalistic thing.

THT: At that point, what were some of the changes you started seeing on the scene? 

Joseph: In the 80s, when the keyboards and the synthesizer came along, Kassav came around. What people don’t realize is that the musicians from Kassav are die-hard Tabou Combo fans. When we were on stage, they used to come and watch us and listen to us. 

Those musicians were watching us—another band coming in from abroad, going out with their women, taking over the scene. They said, ‘What are we going to do? We can’t let that happen. We have to do something.’ It was like a pride thing, a nationalistic thing. So, that’s what Kassav did, with the keyboards. This is exactly what Nemours did with Angel Viloria. 

I was impressed with the energy, with that sound. It was so clean. So we hired a guy to put us into that technology—Brad Baker to do the programming. Around this time is when we get Top Vice. [Sweet] Micky. It was a reduced version of a band. You only had two, three guys playing the music and making the same money. So, why not?

Music dreams and money talks 

THT: Since Tabou didn’t reduce the band and instead added a keyboardist, how was the money then?

Joseph: Tabou Combo wasn’t about making money. This was about a bunch of guys wanting to conquer the world with their music. It was about being on the radio, being on TV, being konpa stars. 

You don’t go to music, saying, ‘Oh man, I want to get rich. That’s why I’m playing music.’ No. I don’t think it works like that. 

THT: How does it work then?

Joseph: It’s like this: You have a dream and you stay behind a dream. That was the mentality of my generation, with guys like Mick Jagger or John Lennon. There’s a lot of other ways to make money besides playing music. You get a job, have a profession. 

It seems, unfortunately for Haitians, like it’s a way out, to either get a visa. They form a band or have easy access on a computer. Some people don’t take the time to understand the music or play an instrument.

For fame, money or both? Joseph speaks about why Tabou stayed together through the years, in tough times and prosperous periods.

THT: What is the money like, though? Annually, how much were you making at the time?

Tabou started making real money with “Aux Antilles,” “Kité’m Fè Zafèm,” “Zap Zap,” “Fenoméne Tabou.” Everything before was just gigging. With “Fenoméne Tabou,” I think the sound guy bought a house after a tour. One year, we made a million [dollars] with “Aux Antilles.”

THT: That’s pretty good by any standards. Now, when you mentioned the need to have a profession. Which did you pursue?

Joseph: I took the LSAT, and the second time I passed it. I was admitted to the University of Michigan. I didn’t go because I was married. I had a kid. After a while, I still wanted to go to school. I took a course at City College, discovered I loved math. So I studied international relations and education, graduated in ‘88.

THT: Did you end up teaching?

Joseph: I had a bad experience. In my internship, I was assigned to kids who are on the verge of dropping out, to bring them back into school. These kids were talking about graffiti, killings. I didn’t like the way they addressed teachers; no respect, so I said, ‘This job is not for me.’ At that point, money was there, the fame was there— everything was there. I was on TV and we were flying to a lot of places.

Going global for good     

THT: What was that like, taking the music all over the world back then? 

Joseph: Doing all these shows in Martinique and Guadeloupe, sometimes we didn’t get paid. Sometimes we slept at the airport because the promoter didn’t buy us a ticket to go back to New York. They used to put beds [mattresses] on the floor in one hotel room for everybody to sleep. Other times, they’d rent a house or something to put us there and just bring us food.

The fans didn’t know the conditions. Every time we got on stage, everybody was happy, screaming. In Martinique, we used to play twice a day for like 15 days. Two shows every night—the first one starts at nine [o’clock] until like one in the morning. The second one starts at two until six in the morning.

THT: How did you all eventually get out of those situations?

Joseph: Haitians were badly regarded in Martinique back then because certain Haitians, unfortunately, used to go there looking for work, were barely educated. They used to work in plantations. But when we started going there, they saw we lived in New York, spoke French, and thought we were different. That’s when it [konpa] started to assimilate. 

THT: That was still primarily for French-speaking audiences at the time. When did konpa start becoming more of a global thing? 

Joseph: Actually, our first global hit was “New York City” in 1974. That’s when we were all over Europe, not just France. A la ti pitit danse, oh, oh oh— that was our first world hit. 

• 
• 
• Nau (second from top right) with his band Tabou Combo. Courtesy of Tabou Combo
• Tabou Combo musicians Jean-Claude Jean, Yvon “Kapi” Andre, Garry Josama. Photo by Lynn Escarment for THELAR Management Group.
• 

THT: For any Haitian band? 

Joseph: For any Caribbean band. On a European chart, we were number one over Ike and Tina Turner. 

THT: Wow. Did you start getting that feeling of becoming the Rolling Stones as you had dreamt of? 

Joseph: After that experience, you start to look at music in a different way. I started seeing people I never saw before, places I’ve never seen before in my life, people from big-time newspapers. I went to places that you never knew existed. It opens doors for you. 

THT: Tell me more. How so?

Joseph: There’s an editor from Vogue magazine that was in love with me. So I was in Paris, and we were invited to the record producer’s apartment in Paris 14ème. Gerard Depardieu was there. Alain Delon—all these big-name French people. And the producer introduces us. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, these are the guys who made me the most money this year: Tabou Combo.” Everybody was like, ‘Wow.’ And that woman just took me and started dancing with me on the coffee table of the apartment. Like singled me out, kissing me all over the place.

I said, ‘Oh, my god.’ So, you started seeing different people. I said, ‘Well, that’s what music is about.’ you know? When you are up there in big studios, a lot of cameras, you go to TV stations—That’s it. 

Playing for the community is a different story. That’s what I always say to my fellow musicians: Try to conquer the world. You’re going to see music in a different light. 

THT: Yeah. You’re not on the floor anymore. 

Joseph: That’s how it is though. Always try your best, always try to make it on an international stage.

THT: You mention your wife and having a family a few times. How would you describe the role they played in your decisions about pursuing music and being a konpa star? 

Joseph: My family—my wife Nadja and son Mikhail—has been very supportive of my career as a musician, traveling around the world. I remember my wife giving me a trophy after I wrote “Aux Antilles.” I was surprised! 

Surviving the grind

THT: Now that you’ve become a mentor to some of the younger generations, tell me some of the advice you find yourself giving them. 

Joseph: I think it’s to be true to yourself. You know, don’t lie to yourself. Don’t think you’re something that you’re not. If you know you’re good, know you’re good. Be humble and just stick to your dream. 

What we did in Tabou Combo was crazy. It was crazy because we could have ended up in a different place. There’s no guarantee. [About 90%] of musicians don’t make it. It’s like being an NBA player. Not everybody can play with the Lakers. 

Sticking together—That’s what Tabou Combo taught me. How to stick together. Nobody ever ever tried to part from the band, to say ‘I’m leaving this bullshit’ because he didn’t make any money or a promoter said, ‘Oh, I have no money to pay you guys’ and just vanished. No, you call your ex-girlfriend or your girlfriend and say, ‘Chérie, can you send me a ticket?’

About 90% of musicians don’t make it. It’s like being an NBA player. Not everybody can play with the Lakers.

THT: When I see you guys out there, playing in Panama constantly, places in Africa, all over the world—do you feel like you’ve achieved your goal?

Joseph: We could’ve been a lot farther if we spoke a different language, if we were in English. I’ll probably get a lot of criticism for saying that. But, lyrics are important. Look at Juicy Lucy—a lot of people like it because they understand the lyrics in English. That’s why we try to always incorporate English in our songs so people can relate. And it works.  

During that era, there was no social media. It was only radio and TV. So it was very limited. With social media, you can have a million views speaking Creole because people have more access to your stuff. 

THT: So now you’re looking at this technology. You mentioned SoundCloud. There’s AI now. Like you said, a lot of people try to use music as a way out, without understanding it—

Joseph: It’s not like they don’t understand it, they just don’t take time to understand the culture. It’s just like fast food. 

THT: How so? 

Joseph: It’s something to consume. People are really perplexed when they hear music from Tabou. I was playing on the stage with another band, and this one guy there was like, ‘Oh my god. You guys are still playing the same song and people are still loving it.’ But it’s like listening to The Beatles—who stops listening to “Yesterday” or “The Long and Winding Road?” Some songs are just like eternal. They were so generously carved, from the heart. It’s an expression. 

THT: I’m curious to know what your thoughts are on ways to maintain and grow the genre, then. 

Joseph: To tell the truth, I personally don’t understand it anymore. This [social media] views thing, for example, just left me. Snoop Dogg said something like back in the day, if you sold a million albums, you get a dollar per album, you make a million dollars. Now you got a million views—where’s the money?

People used to have a stereo at the house where they listened to music. Now everybody is listening to music on their phone. What sound do you have on the phone? 

Still, the budget doesn’t change. You still have to pay a musician, go to a studio and everything. But you put it online. How do you recoup that money? Before, you used to spend like 20,000, 30,000 dollars—even 50,000. But we used to sell CDs, go to festivals, go to record stores—and see people buying your CDs, see the money. Now, where’s the money? Who is making the money?

THT: The platform owners. 

Joseph: But not us. 

When the teacher becomes the student 

THT: So, what’s the lesson there?  

Joseph: At this particular time, I’m more of a student than a teacher. The only thing I know now is just that I play live and I make money playing live. But as far as royalties go, I don’t know. The new generation must find a way to make money.

THT: Here’s another interesting thing about konpa. We hear that in Haiti’s music scene, there’s a lot of reggae, rabòday, rap kreyol, even samba and drill music. Konpa is not king anymore.

Joseph: They can listen to whatever they want, but the music is supported by economics. The reason konpa is still alive is because konpa generates money. Rap kreyol and everything, people in Haiti have no money to support it. It’s the diaspora who go to festivals. They go to Carimi at UBS Arena, they go to Barclays Center. 

Diaspora are not only in Miami, New York. Now, they’re in Chile, Brazil, San Diego, Korea, Indiana, Canada—they’re everywhere. They do fundraisers, festivals, beach parties—they’re everywhere. If it wasn’t for the diaspora, there’d be no konpa.

If it wasn’t for the diaspora, there’d be no konpa. Konpa is still alive because it generates money.

THT: If you were to summarize this entire experience as one of the icons of konpa, over these 70 years, how would you encapsulate the entire experience in a word or two? 

Joseph: Wonderful. Maybe it wasn’t a wonderful experience for a lot of people since some ended up in a bad spot. If konpa were to be structured, that has to come from Haiti. It has to come from people in Haiti where konpa originated, from the base of konpa. If you have to have an HMI, it has to be in Haiti. We have to influence the radio stations, pay royalties. 

THT: Social media platforms, as a form of distribution, would fit in the same category as radio stations in 2025. No?

Joseph: Radio is still a force in music promotion in the world. A lot of people don’t have access to or choose to ignore social media platforms. So when you go to a foreign country, you listen to radio stations in your car or in the streets. In Martinique and Guadeloupe, the radio stations play the music of the local artists. In Haiti, the radio stations are competing against each other. There’s no hit parade. You have to pay to get airtime. So, that [structure] has to be [established] in Haiti, even though the diaspora is the backbone right now.

THT: Still though, other audiences, non-Haitians, gravitate to Haitian culture through its music, despite the bad rap Haiti gets. 

Joseph: People love the music. They don’t care about who’s killing whom in Haiti. They just want to look at the musicians, listen to the music. They love the rhythm. Had Haiti been more calm, more progressive and stable, konpa [the HMI] would have been even more stable.

THT: Do you think konpa will still proliferate across the world or will it eventually die out? 

Joseph: Nowadays, it’s more about solo artists. Not the konpa of Nemours Jean-Baptiste or the full band. Me, I’m not going to a concert to see just one guy. I want to see musicians.

THT: So, how does it make you feel to think of this genre as potentially on the verge of going out?

Joseph: I have no remorse. I’ve done what I had to do, and I’m proud of what I’ve done. 

THT: Well, anything you’re excited to see now, from any genre or Haitian artists? 

Joseph: Oh, yeah. There’s a lot of talent. I like Zafèm. I see Nu Look, I see Klass when I have a chance. But my all-time favorite band was DP Express. 

THT: Oh, yes. Hands down. Thank you so much, Fanfan. This was a great catch-up.

 Joseph: Thank you.

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