With the cupa-cupa, the sound comes before the object itself: low, vibrating, slightly comic even, it cuts through voices and the footsteps of the dancers with a pulse that feels earthy, playful, and a tad comedic. Popular in many parts of our South, the cupa-cupa is, visually, rather forgettable, but it remains immediately recognizable once heard; far from seeking a place in the Olympus of refined orchestral instruments – but that was never its goal! – it occupies a space where rhythm, gesture, and collective participation matter more than anything else.
Indeed, what makes the cupa-cupa special has very little to do with elegance and everything to do with how it works: it belongs to the family of friction drums, where sound is created not by striking a surface, but by rubbing it. Making and playing a cupa-cupa, believe us when we say it, it’s easier than it seems: all you need is a container of some sort – traditionally a pot, a tin, or a small wooden vessel – covered with a stretched membrane, usually animal skin.
