My Cultural Awakening Through Pentangle
At the age of 15, navigating the uncertain transition to adulthood, I grappled with questions about my identity and place in the world. Growing up feeling perpetually "in-between"—half-white, half-black; half-British, half-Caribbean—I often sensed a divide between two worlds that sometimes seemed at odds.
In 2008, my father took me to see Pentangle perform at the Royal Festival Hall on London’s South Bank. The band, which rose to prominence in the late 1960s, was known for blending British folk melodies with blues and jazz rhythms. I likely stood out among the audience—mostly bearded men wearing sandals and socks—with my large hoop earrings and hair pulled back. Although I was reluctant at first, by the end of that summer evening, I was profoundly changed.
The folk songs Pentangle performed felt both ancient and haunting, yet offered a comforting resonance. They spoke to a deep, unnamed longing within me, one that felt timeless. I was especially moved by their rendition of The Cuckoo, an 18th-century ballad about the migratory bird whose song heralds summer’s arrival. Upon returning home, I immediately downloaded the track and privately immersed myself in it, feeling transported not only to the late 1960s when it was recorded but further still, to an enchanted British past.
Pentangle’s version of The Cuckoo served as a gateway into British folk culture’s mysteries. It sparked an enduring fascination with standing stones, ancient myths, druids, pagans, and seasonal folk customs practiced in remote areas of the country—a preoccupation that remains with me. I explored traditions such as wassailing, morris dancing, and mummers’ plays, as well as Welsh Mari Lwyd and Highland folklore. These age-old folk songs and stories offered an alternative history of Britain, told from the grassroots rather than through official narratives.
Unlike patriotic anthems like Rule, Britannia! or symbols such as the Union Jack, these customs were largely disconnected from monarchy, military, or empire. Instead, they evoked a vision of Britain that was enchanted, subversive, and strange—a Britain where I felt I could truly belong.
For a long time, I kept my interest in folk culture private, feeling it was somewhat unusual. However, as I matured, I began to notice parallels between British traditions and those from the Caribbean. For example, Carriacou’s Shakespeare Mas features revellers in vibrant costumes reciting Shakespearean monologues through the streets; Jamaica has a maypole dancing tradition; and sea shanties traveled back and forth between Britain and the New World along slave trade routes, incorporating call-and-response refrains. Even the Notting Hill Carnival, often seen as a distinctly Caribbean event, was originally styled as an old English fayre.
These fused customs represented a meeting point within me, reflecting Britain’s complex colonial history. They were expressions of creativity, resistance, and cultural exchange—new growth emerging from the remnants of empire.
Over time, I have encountered many individuals from diverse backgrounds who are similarly drawn to folklore’s radical potential and its unifying power. Participating in street parades with homemade costumes, gathering to share stories passed down by elders, and rising early to celebrate solar cycles are fundamental acts that connect people across cultures and eras. They speak to a primal human need for story, ritual, community, and a connection to the earth beneath our feet, regardless of location.
Reflecting on it now, all of this was present in Pentangle’s music—the fusion of old English folk songs with syncopated jazz rhythms that traveled to Britain via America from West Africa. Much like the cuckoo bird, which annually journeys between the lands of my ancestors, their music bridged cultures and histories. I will always be grateful to Pentangle for that transformative concert experience.
"The old folk songs I heard Pentangle perform that night felt haunting and ancient, yet comforting somehow; they spoke to an unnamed longing within me that felt as old as time."
"Pentangle’s rendition of The Cuckoo was a gateway drug of sorts; it was my initiation into the mysteries of British folk culture, and it kickstarted an obsession with standing stones, ancient myths, druids, pagans and seasonal folk customs practised in remote parts of the country."
"These songs, stories and customs seemed to emanate from a very different kind of Britain to the one invoked by anthems such as Rule, Britannia! or by the union jack."
"Even the Notting Hill carnival, seen by many as a distinctly Caribbean tradition, was styled, in an early incarnation, as an old English fayre."
"They spoke to and from a primal part of us that longs for story, ritual, community and a connection to the ground beneath our feet, wherever on the Earth we might stand."
"It was all there in Pentangle’s music, now that I think about it – in their fusion of old English folk songs and syncopated jazz rhythms, which made their way to Britain, via America, from west Africa; much like the cuckoo itself, who each year journeys between the two lands from which my ancestors hail."
