by KRISTIAN GRAVENOR

For years the city warned participants of the impromptu Tam Tams bongo jam that long-lasting renovations would displace them from their home at the base of the Sir Georges-Étienne Cartier statue on Mount Royal near Rachel. That’s the spot where up to 50 musicians and 5,000 spectators have assembled Sunday afternoons since 1978.

But the bongo bashers were a dubious lot. “Some thought the work wouldn’t happen because the city has been talking about it for years,” says Pierre Desrosiers, a long-time devotee who’s also the self-appointed Web master (www.membres.lycos.fr/tamjam) and photographer of the event.

This year, it was finally decided that their crumbling site would be roped off, depriving the revellers of their usual spot.

Desrosiers claims that the weekly gathering is the world’s largest of its kind, and as such it leads to occasional complaints about its noise, litter and pot distribution. But never did he suspect a government conspiracy would permanently displace their relentless weekend rhythms.

“Maybe there are some fascist, reactionary, conservative minds stricken with the order syndrome that would like us to move, but I don’t think the Tam Tams could ever be moved. It offers a lot of financial benefits to the city, people get drawn to it and those people need a place to stay, shop, live—it’s a financial asset for the city.”

Last winter, city bureaucrat Sylvie Giroux was charged with the relocation. She merely moved them a few feet over. Musicians now sit on a pair of stands—the city plans to add a third soon—on the grass nearby. It’s a stone’s throw down but could have seemed light years from the magic stone base beneath the bronze lions and angel above.

But rather than complain, the tie-dyed mass of humanity appears to favour the spot. Unlike the statue spot, where viewers had to struggle past the artisans or through trees to get a glimpse of the musicians, the new configurations offers crisp sight lines to the hands laying frantic beats.

“It created a phenomenon that permits people to lie on the grass and see the thing,” says Desrosiers. “Suddenly, there’s no more barriers between them, they have a view of the tam tams. I was joking to a player that they’ll be sorry when they get their old place back.”

Denis Alexandre, a leader of the djembe-beating tribe, also has no complaints. Alexandre stands in front of the stands “like a conductor,” he says, for up to six hours starting at noon every Sunday.

“Some of the musicians like the new spot,” he says, “but it’s possible some don’t. Regardless of anybody’s opinion, I work the show and try to make it interesting regardless of where it is.”

Having his fellow drummers elevated hasn’t changed the essence of the event, he says. “It’s just a question of habit, regardless of where it was. Even if we went to Verdun and played on the waterside, after a few months I think it could be the same thing.”

According to city cultural development agent Snejanka Popova, who’s overseeing the actual renovations, the $1.1-million repair of the base and statue is on schedule and will be entirely completed next year.