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 Battements au cœur de l’Orient
Keyvan Chemirani | France, Iran
Let me say straight off the bat that I witnessed the creative process of this seminal album and wrote its sleevenotes. So I am perhaps not in the most objective position to write about a CD I find outstanding in its thrust and trans-cultural relevance. But, for some reason, this recording has not yet been reviewed elsewhere in English, and it deserves to be brought to readers attention. So, here goes.
This is Keyvan’s third recording for the Accords Croisés label. I followed one of the afternoon sessions between these seasoned artists, in an exchange that lasted three days. Anindo Chatterjee was on a transit visit between two continents and gladly lent his firebrand tabla hands to Keyvan’s project. It was a dream come true for the French Iranian who has always been fascinated by the metric precision and multiplicity of timbres produced by the Indian tabla. After years of collaboration with Indian percussionists, playing with one of the world’s greatest tablists was a natural progression for Keyvan, who has always thrived on exchanges between distinctive musical cultures.
Distinctive, yes, yet India and Iran are so close in their musical geography and classical repertoires. The artistic explorations between the two nations reached a climax four centuries ago. Much of what we hear in North Indian classical music at present is influenced by Persian works. “It’s like meeting up with long-lost relatives,” explained to me another seasoned artist on this album, Ken Zuckerman. The sarod player has been collaborating with Chatterjee for 30 years and the mutual respect they have for each other made the studio exchanges all the easier for Keyvan. Zuckerman had no trouble using his melodic instrument as a rhythmic accompaniment for the zarb and tabla leads that dominate these nine tracks.
For it is clear from the start that Keyvan decided to put the Irano-Indian percussions at the forefront of Battements au Coeur de l’Orient. Chatterjee’s crisp and melodious strokes accompany Keyvan’s zarb lead with the innate sense of timing that has made the likes of Ravi Shankar praise this Pandit as one of the world’s best. Keyvan’s mastery of the zarb’s subtle yet all-enveloping sound is answered by the higher-pitched “daya” and “baya” rhythms coaxed out of the tablas by Chatterjee.
Around this, there is Zuckerman’s sarod, the kemenche from Greece played by Sokratis Sinopoulos, the evocative bansuri flute blown by Henri Tournier, the lyra strummed by Stelios Petrakis and the soulful vocals of Keyvan’s sister Maryam Chemirani. The family network is further strengthened by the presence of Keyvan’s younger brother Bijan on the saz and zarb. Together, they construct a homogenous, at times dazzling, conversation that sweeps along the listener from the beginning to the end of this aural feast.
This was an important recording for Keyvan Chemirani. It was constructed during a particularly tragic moment of his life, when he lost a newborn girl he called Azadeh. He dedicated this “heartbeat” album to her memory, this “twinkling light” he will forever see in the sky. What more appropriate homage is there, then these heartfelt beats that ooze with emotion and generosity?
April 30th 2008.
2008-04-29
Daniel Brown |
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Mondomix Experience
Souad Massi | Algérie
What better way to celebrate the Mondomix’ tenth anniversary than to release a four-CD anthology of our favourite music? Here are sixty songs from the four corners of the globe that sum up the philosophy that has driven this Paris-based company for the last decade: cross-border exchange, experimentation, audacity and youthful adventure. It is symbolised by the ever-fresh voice of Souad Massi, the Algerian singer who Mondomix helped integrate into the music community in France. Her success was crowned with a BBC World Music Award in 2006.
The compilation is divided into four sections corresponding to the four crucial moments of the day: dawn, noon, evening and night. The moods of each CD thus vary from the contemplative to the wild-and-raunchy. Each one is introduced by a pithy saying such as “The stars in the sky will come to look at us. We will show them the moon itself. You and I.” (Rumi). Or: “It is in the dew of small things that the heart finds its morning and refreshes itself” (Khalil Gibran). It is difficult to resist the charm and variety of the selection conjured up by the Mondomix team. The music goes from Dona Rosa and Lee “Scratch” Perry to Pee Froiss and X Plastaz.
The four CDs are offered for the price of one. As a result, Mondomix followers can relish an anthology that reflects the remarkable wealth of music it has helped to unearth in the past decade. “A voyage that Jules Vernes himself would not have imagined,” it proudly claims in the sleevenotes. Indeed, this non-linear odyssey underlines that, in this age of bling-bling MTV monoculture, the global village will never be reduced to a monolithic sound – especially with the quality of music offered up by the artists featured on this compilation.
April 22nd 2008
2008-04-22
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Umalali
The Garifuna Women’s Project | Bélize
When I first stumbled on the Garifunas of Central America in 1987 I was struck by the vitality of their music culture, particularly in Belize, a state that had only gained independence six years earlier. The three days of nonstop celebrations in Belize City marking September’s Independence Day was drenched in traditional paranda sounds, punta rock and soca music. It was all shrouded in an impressive stream of beer, violence and inebriated Belizeans. Much of the cacophony was unseemly as synthesisers and guitars imported by the sizable Belizean diaspora in the US drowned out the Garifuna rhythms and harmonies. But the powerful vocals, exotic turtle-shell xylophone and gripping percussions hinted at a repertoire that could go beyond the borders of this tiny nation. And distant echoes of blues; rock, funk, African and Latino music only amplified the impression.
A few years later, a young Belizean musician of Spanish and Mexican parenthood turned such pipe dreams into reality. In 1995 Ivan Duran founded Stonetree Records and allied himself with the startling musical talents of Andy Palacio. In 1997, he started a voyage along the Atlantic coast into Garifuna communities in Belize, Honduras and Guatemala to seek out the best female voices he could. For, it was the women who had always been the guardians of traditions going back to 1635, when enslaved Africans had first escaped to the inhospitable shores of Central America. For five years Duran researched; recorded and prepared his project. He then built a recording studio in a thatched-roofed hut on stilts in the Belizean village of Hopkins. For months he recorded the best voices he had found, coaxing out original songs on the daily lives of these courageous women.
The following five years were devoted to giving extra texture and backbone to the songs. The women he handpicked were lead by a 54-year-old Guatemalean called Sofia Blanco who features in two of the albums most outstanding songs “Niban” and “Yunduya Weyu”. Her piercing voice has an eerie resemblance to that of Dona Rosa, the blind Portuguese diva who also came good late in her life. The traditional songs Blanco and the other women in the collective offer up are transformed by Duran’s aesthetic decision to infuse them with layers of guitars, African percussions and extra voices. At times; the openly pop and Afropop direction harmonies disserve the original tunes (“Mérua” and “Hattie” in particular). But, in the main, they wrench the songs away from a folkloric ghetto and transform them into haunting and beautifully-crafted works.
This labour of love is also a searching panorama of the preoccupations of a beleaguered Garifuna population that are numeric minorities in all the countries they live in. The women recount a wide gammut of experiences: the agony of childbirth, the violence of a hurricane that destroyed their homes, the sacrifices for the upbringing of a child or the brutal murder of a son in a far-off village. Sometimes, as in “Yunduya Weyu”, the rhythm is upbeat and the singing joyful, even if the lyrics relate a difficult childbirth. Elsewhere, like in “Anaha Ya”, “Tuguchili Elia” and the excellent “Afayahadina”, Duran gives the songs a sense of urgency and intensity. This is mainly thanks to the outstanding guitar-playing by the likes of Eduardo “Guayo” Cedeño (a Garifuna Hendrix, suggests Duran), Rolando “Chichiman” Sosa and Duran himself.
The album is superbly presented with sleevenotes that provide informal and personal details about its making, beautiful photos and several videos of its protagonists. None of these women are professional singers. Yet, as Duran confides to Banning Eyre in an interview, their “amazing voices and personalities and stories” carry the day. “I’ve seen an amazing improvement in all of them,” he insists. This has allowed the producer to overcome the cultural and material challenges of bringing these working women into the world music arena and touring circuit. “The best thing that could happen with the Umalali project,” he concludes, “is that it convinces women in the Garifuna community that they can dedicate themselves to music and be rewarded by (it).”
2008-04-15
Daniel Brown |
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Li Lan La
Diogal | Sénégal
This warm and delicate album is the first in which Diogal is responsible for all its contents, its artistic direction and its production. And what a fine individual effort it is, marking with dignity and conviction the singer’s ten years in France. The 37-year-old inspires himself from the full ethno-linguistic diversity of his native Senegal to ink in a dozen powerful songs that mix rhythms from Mali and Senegal with a wide range of percussions (the sabar, tama, calabash and cajon).
Diogal addresses pressing issues that centre on the behaviour of man towards the environment, his neighbours and his roots. He opens with a call for more humility and lightness in this troubled world. Yet his soft-spoken vocals encourage anything but frivolity. This is an urgent and vibrant clarion-call that penetrates the listener – but in the way a crystal-clear and tinkling stream washes over boulders on its descent from the mountains. The title track recounts the eternal dissatisfaction of men when confronted with their fate; “Nagu” explains that pride leads nowhere; while “Anda” advises migrants not hide their origins but hold them up with pride.
There is also “Ali”, a moving homage to Ali Farka Toure whose absence continues to be sorely felt in the world music community. And another to Diogal’s beautiful island of Ngor, an oasis of tranquility off of the teeming metropolis of Dakar. Its beaches and low-key rhythm have given birth to a startling number of talented musicians, including the equally-gifted Nuru Kane. The latter has remained firmly rooted in his country while Diogal has recreated his world in Champigny-sur-Marne, west of Paris. That’s where he recorded his entire album, in a self-built studio called Wasia. The rich tapestry evoked in Li Lan La also reflect the musicians exhaustive exchanges with the likes of Lokua Kanza, Louis Winsberg and Daby Touré. A decade after deciding to set up shop in France, it is clear that this self-taught composer has reached a level of maturity that can only bode well for the future.
April 6th 2008.
2008-04-08
Daniel Brown |
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Many Things
Seun Kuti | Nigeria
He might only be 25 but Seun Kuti’s growing army of fans have been waiting for his inaugural album with the impatience of an area boy for a naira bill. And they won’t be disappointed with this first effort. A nervous, hard-edged and racy tempo balances sweetly with self-assurance, a brooding yet composed anger and a highly-professional discipline. Kuti has matured into a startlingly modern version of his father. He has taken on board the universality of Fela’s message without ever losing sight of the challenges that his native Nigeria still face.
But it would be unfair to overlook the collective effort these seven long songs represent. And it is to the credit of this outspoken singer that he has not hesitated to turn to the doyens of Fela’s Egypt 80 band, musicians who were kingpins in his father’s global success. From one of the original companions, Lekan Animashaun, to the baritone saxophonist Showboy, we can enjoy the multiplicity of talents that this band of 18 musicians harbours. Add to this the rock-solid brass section, the remarkable trumpet-playing of Emmanuel Kunnuji and the biting lyrics from Seun and friends - and you have a sure recipe for an Afrobeat hit that Seun’s iconic dad would be proud of.
This is not to say that Many Things is a blind and faithful replica of Fela’s recording legacy. Young Seun has his own vocal timbre and while he replicates with ease some of the saxophone hooks of his father, his playing is very much his own. The influences of the likes of Wyclef Jean, DMX and Eminem also slip into these compositions with their in-your-face defiance. “I want to make Afrobeat for my generation,” he is quoted as saying. “Instead of “get up and fight” it’s going to be “get up and think”. My generation’s not thinking.”
These songs should give his peers plenty of food for thought. Kuti and his colleagues discuss corruption, malaria, lack of infrastructure in Africa, stolen oil money, the manipulation of soldiers and female sensuality. This last subject, described in “Fire Dance” was penned in by sound engineer and producer Godwin Logie. It is one of the album’s rare “lighter” moments as clearly Seun has not curtailed any of the outraged energy Fela nurtured. The unlimited use of the word “shit” reflects the mire his country remains stuck in and Seun pulls no punches here. It is in the title track, arguably the album’s best song, that the singer rips away the veneer of “successes” under the Obasanjo regime to reveal what is happening underneath the new bridges built, or new education plans, health plans, pledges for democracy, and the lot:
“When I see the way my people dey live, under bridge and on top of water
When I see the nonsense things, nonsense things our leaders dey do
When I see the oga of police in prison for stealing
When I hear education minister in scandal for stealing
....Wey tire me pass anything.”
You don’t need to know pidgin English to get Seun’s message.
March 26th 2008
Daniel Brown
2008-04-01
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Patchwork
Jerez Texas | Espagne, France
There is a universal flow to this refined album that sees Jerez-Texas team up some outstanding guests such as the vocalists Ester Andujar and Abdoulaye N’Diaye, the percussionist Osvaldo Jorge and the accordionist Carlos Sanchis. The French-Hispanic mixture at the band’s core is thus enhanced in a tapestry that claims to follow the architectural design of an Andalucian patio, “bursting with light, blending the heat of the sun with the coolness of the water, the finely sculpted stones and the luxuriance of the vegetation.”
Grandiose words penned in by Gabriel Omnès for the sleeve notes, yet not pretentious ones when put side-by-side with these eleven original compositions. They harmonise jazz and flamenco with effortless grace, enhanced by crystalline vocal exercises in Spanish or Wolof in songs like “In-finito” or the title track. Esteve, Saglio and Gimeno thus instil a feeling that a new folklore is being re-invented around the time-and-tested repertoires from southern Spain. Ester Andujar’s scats and N’Diaye’s sober poems from Senegal project the classic compositions onto an international stage that has recently become sensitive to the pioneering dimension of this group.
The first album by Jerez-Texas, Sao, already woke up the critics to the band’s capabilities after its release in 2005. Patchwork is likely to confirm their first impressions with its confident kaleidoscope of influences. Added to this, there is a certain degree of audacity that the trio displays when, for example, they put classic solos like “Bajo los Naranjos” side-by-side with a traditional song like “Sarao Mediterraneo”, belted out by the folklore singer Josep Aparicio ‘Apa’. And, like the discreet entrances to the patios around the Mediterranean, do not be misled by appearances: a sober and unimaginative outside wall (the album cover) can hide a treasure-trove of sensations, guided by new and surprising architectural designs (the lyrical and compositional innovations in this 47 minute CD).
March 19th
2008-03-18
Daniel Brown |
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Oyé Afra
Alfredo Rodriguez | Cuba
“Hey there, Afra!” The affectionate album title given by Alfredo Rodriguez’s wife, and the collection of her nine favourite jazz-son songs by her late husband are a timely reminder of the density and richness of the pianist’s career. It mixes jazz standards like “Summertime” and swinging salsa with names like “Mario’s Blues”, the luscious opener “Claudia”, or the cheerful “Aguardiente”.
Rodriguez spent long years as the sideman of such popular salsa names as Celia Cruz and Anga Diaz. He also nurtured burgeoning talents like Yuri Buenaventura who swore by his talents on the ivory keys. These songs now prove the Cuban’s worth as a leader who imposes his piano rhythms on songs like “Almendra” and the title track “Oyé Afra”. Most are first releases, recorded in live conditions.
Rodriguez always knew how to buoy up his playing with equally-talented Latino artists. This CD presents an impressive list of co-expatriates like Tata Güines on congas, Manuel Machado on the trumpet and the singer Joel Hierrezulo. His widow clearly wanted to send off her life-long partner with a dance or nine, and put a smile on the faces of all those who crossed this modest and humorous musician. In less than an hour, she’s done just that and reminded us of the gap his disappearance from the Paris salsa scene has created.
March 12th 2008.
2008-03-11
Daniel Brown |
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Géej
El Hadj N'Diaye | Sénégal
The matrilineal Géej clan dominated the Kajoor region of Senegambia through much of the 18th century. Coordinating with the Wolof warlord Lat Sukaabe Faal, the Géej resisted the French invaders and spread a culture imbibed by Islam and local beliefs. These historical roots continue to mark the philosophical approach to music of one of Senegal’s most remarkable artists, El Hadj N’Diaye. It is the title of his third international release and yet this is not a pink-tainted vision of the past by the composer. With this album title, the singer is in fact referring to the waters where scores of Africans are losing their lives in their attempts to reach the "sanctuary" of European soil. Géej talks of current dilemmas like the African debt, economic emigration from the continent and the Jolla shipwreck that cost over a 1,000 Senegalese lives. In his characteristically low-key manner N’Diaye treats these issues with soft-spoken anger and indignation. His piercing voice make his denunciations all the more poignant and he has wisely stripped the music down to its bare essentials.
On Géej, you find superb takes of the kora, cello, n’goni and flutes, recording in the pristine conditions of the RECALL studios of Pompignan, southern France. Just occasionally, the electric guitar, heavy bass or electrified sax make a guest appearance on the record but nothing perturbs the delicate acoustic balance N’Diaye and the excellent sound engineer Philippe Gaillot have struck up. The result is 12 achingly powerful songs that reflect the maturity and experience this iconoclast has accumulated over the past decade.
N’Diaye cuts a unique figure in the rich Senegalese music tapestry. His devotion to the downtrodden has begotten censorship and hostility in his homeland. Songs on corruption, torture and Senegal’s poor have probably meant he has not been afforded the worldwide reputation of the N’Dour’s and Maal’s. But this lean and intense personality has never bowed to official or commercial pressure to modify his drive for a more egalitarian society or world.
The word siggi continues to be central to N’Diaye’s philosophy, as we hear in songs like “Jolla”. It means “lift up your head” in Wolof and it has impregnated the singer’s work and life (he directs arts activities for an NGO division he has called the Siggi ENDA Art department). In Géej, N’Diaye lauds the contribution to this emancipation by the likes of author Cheikh Anta Diop who we hear in a moving speech against white colonialism. And, in the only song in French, N’Diaye’s lambastes the “modern devils” who continue to haunt Africans with their visa requirements, DNA tests and diplomatic barriers. It is called “Dégueulasse”, a particularly graphic French word meaning “disgusting”. It is an elegant fingers-up to the dominant political philosophy in the West by one of the continent’s great singers who returns to the musical forefront with this outstanding album.
March 5th, 2008
2008-03-04
Patrick Labesse |
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Pomol
Volga | Russie
This is one album that will constantly challenge listeners to define it. Transported by Angela Menukian’s otherworldly vocals, it bounces from the deeply experimental mélanges of “Tausen” and “Svaha” to the haunting, at times archaic, folklore of “Sufi” and the opener “Reapers”. Menukian has gathered Russian texts she found in remote villages that range from the 12th to the 18th centuries. The symbolic nature of Volga’s work is hidden in the album title which derives from the verb “to ground down grains” and its colloquial meaning “to chatter, to talk”. For the quartet, pomol is a symbol of the hard grind of peasant life down the ages.
The unlikely mixture of techno with over a dozen ethno-linguistic traditions is startling and effective. Trekking well beyond Russia’s Volga region, Menukian has recorded sounds that include Altai throat singing and poetry from Smolensk, Tver, the Caucasus mountains and Ryazan. Her linguistic journey is mixed in with ritualistic pagan psychedelia to disturbing effect. The electronic trance programmes are violent and abrasive, enhanced by the complexity of Menukian’s vocal exercises. These come to a climax in the middle of the album with the songs “Tausen” (Autumn) and “Volga Mother”.
Interestingly, the group adds traditional instruments like the Tibetan cup, a Russian equivalent of the Jew’s harp called the vargan and the zvukosuk string instrument (all played by Uri Balashov). They invade the post-industrial electronics and wrench the listener away from any illusion that this is a pure dance album. In songs like “Kubaha”, the swirling, hypnotic use of these three instruments give these Slav tunes an emotional impact that one rarely trips over in electronic music.
The intelligent inter-weaving of all these contrasting melodies, rhythms and sounds make these 13 songs a rollercoaster ride that one reviewer compared to “Peruvian songs of Icaros, performed by folk healers at ceremonies in order to expand participants’ consciousness.” Yet the intensely ornate vocal dexterity of Menukian creates a harmonious coexistence between worlds that are centuries apart. This is what many are hailing as the cutting edge of a new Russian sound that draws from the breathtaking variety and range of this vast land. One can only hope that Volga opens up its world further by, for example, translating the lyrics that are so finely interpreted.
February 20th 2008
2008-02-19
Daniel Brown |
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Tudo Azul
Velha Guarda da Portela | Brésil
Marisa Monte was ideally placed to undust and release samba gems that have fallen on the wayside in this last half-century. Her father Carlos Monte had been one of the directors of one of Rio’s most illustrious samba schools, founded in 1935. Bathed in the music composed by the likes of Chico Santa, Venture and Alvaiade, Marisa took it upon herself to breathe new life into songs that were part of Brazil’s rich musical heritage but that never had been recorded.
The result is 18 little musical nuggets and four bonus tracks that pay homage to these influential composers. Eight years after its Brazilian release, Red Circle Music had the bright idea of putting the hit album onto the international market. The Portela Samba School had a instant impact on dozens of high-profile Brazilian artists including the likes of Caetano Veloso, Lenine and Arto Lindsey (who translates the album lyrics into English, but the booklet has unfortunately not been made available to this reviewer). With songs like “Volta Meu Amor” (featuring Marisa Monte’s voice), “Corri Pra Ver” and “Sempre Teu Amor”, it’s easy to see why. The elder statesmen assembled here are disarmingly powerful in combining trademarks styles like choro and the cuica in classic sambas that have aged like vintage wine. With the subtle arrangements for Paulao’s seven-chord guitar, the biting rhythms of David’s pandeiro tambourine, and the infectious cavaquinho-playing of Jair, there is a solid musical bedrock with which the vocals toy.
The album title will also tickle a smile out of Carioca dwellers. Tudo azul (“all is blue”) reflects the colour that symbolises the Portella school and is an old Brazilian expression meaning “all is well”. Ninety years after what is generally acknowledged as the first samba recording, “Pelo Telefone”, this album is an apt and touching homage to the durability and vitality of Brazil’s national music style. It also brings overdue recognition to retired sambistas (the “Velha Guarda” whose average age is 70) who marked their country’s musical landscape.
February 13th 2008
2008-02-12
Daniel Brown |
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