Great Spirits

Hindi Zahra Berber Jazz

     If it seems that more often than not I'm writing about female artists, especially female world music artists, lately, that is no illusion. Maybe I'm drawn to female artrists for some reason; or maybe because opportunities for female artists have tended to be more limited those who manage to attain some sort of prominence are just at a higher level  than the general run of male artists, or perhaps a higher percentage of them are at a higher level because only the best of them can succeed. In any case, the most exciting new artist I've encountered lately is Hindi Zahra, a 30 year-old Berber woman from Morocco who has lived in France, specifically Paris, since she was in her teens. In short, she is part of the new multi-cultural artistic milieu that stretches around the globe these days--with Paris being a major nexus--with creative, sophisticated, thoughtful artists of all backgrounds taking in influences from all directions, mixing them with their own foundation culture, and coming up with personalized expressions embodied in fresh fusions. For that reason, relative to their own cultures and relative to mainstream pop styles, they are truly "alternative."

     I think it was a review in a recent issue of Mojo Magazine--that worthy publication for music obsessives--that hipped me to her and led me to check her out I ordered her debut album, "Handmade", and when it arrived, the photo on the cover presents a striking, raven-haired woman with hands-on-the-hips edgy attitude and a petulant expression, each of her wrists encircled with at least a dozen bracelets. She seems to be in a small shop or market stall, a purveyor of spices, or perhaps an herbal healer's redoubt. It could easily be in Morocco or perhaps in the Barbes section of Paris or maybe in the vicinity of a banliue. It conveys at once something urban and exotic.

     There's been a big buzz on Hindi Zahra in Europe, thanks to the success of her "Beautiful Tango," which leads off the album It is a jazz, languorous tune, Hindi's sinous vocal dancing over acoustic guitar and light hand percussion, redolent of a bygone era, in the vein of, say, Mary Hopkins' Sixties hit "Those Were The Days." It i

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2-8n6rTH6Ns

 

     Interestingly, Hindi sings mainly in English--which may something about her ambitions ro maybe just her inclinations--but also occasionally in Berber or French. "Beautiful Tango" places her in the realm of such jazzy, understated torch singers as Madeleine Peyroux, Norah Jones or even Erykah Badu in her earliest incarnation, singers who inevitably reference--and are compared to--Billie Holiday. It's a sound and style that seems endlessly appealing to certain audiences. Hindi Zahra does not shy away from this reference; she does a version of "The Man I Love", a song definitively rendered by Billie. It speaks volumes that HNindi's version of the song stands up well to Billie's and yet manages to convey its own identity. If Hindi Zahra did only material in this vein, she'd be notable as she does it well, and writes first-rate melodies (she wrote everything on the album aside from "The Man I Love"). She could have a successful career doing just that if she so desired. But other tracks strike out for different realms, bringing different musical flavors and rhythms subtly into the mix--elements of reggae, Berber music, rock and even hip hop. "Stand Up", which in its original incarnation in a Western Union commercial was rather sparse, takes on a North African identity in the album version, beginning with an Arabic drum pattern, funky elecgric guitar "chuks", oud fills and a reggae groove interlude. There's a brief oud solo in the middle chorus and a heavy bassline after a while:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ZTuG-n-qQg

    "Music," on the other hand, rocks out, eurpting with over-driven, distorted electric guitar. "Don't Forget" is simply a gorgeous pop song. So the album is eclectic but all within a range, held together by Hindi's evocative singing and unerring melodic sense.

      By chance, when I was in Austin, Texas for the SXSW conference, I noticed that Hindi was playing at a club called Mohawk on one of the nights of the conference. I made my way through throngs of people flooding the streets downtown in the Sixth Street area, the explosions of highly amplified sound, general cacophony and flashing lights reminiscent of certain scenes from Apocalypse Now. When I finally made it to Mohawk, Hindi was not on the main stage in a patio area. But then I learned that inside the converted frame house there was an inner bar downstairs. When I went there Hindi's band--a three-piece encompassing what appeared to be a North African, possibly an Algerian or Moroccan electric guitarist, a French drummer and a dark-compelcted African electric bassist. After some time of the band fiddling with their instruments, Hindi herself strolled out, brandishing an acoustic guitar. Without fanfare, the band launched immediately into a faultless "Beautiful Tango", and the audience of perhaps twenty quickly swelled to close to 100, packing the small room. Hindi spoke little, just an occasional "thank you" in English, smiling somewhat mysteriously now and then. Most of the songs they played came off edgier, more urgent and more electric in live performance. The general effect was like that of an alternatige rock band whose members just happened to be French and African. It was a beguiling forty-minute performance.

      It will be interesting to see what audience will gravitate toward Hindi Zahara in the U.S. In her jazzier mode the obvious appeal would be to the upscale, performing arts/NPR crowd. But her performance in Austin suggests that she won't settle for that role. Her shifting musical mix may confound expectations and force her listeners out of their comfort zones. I wonder if she'll find favor on the altenrative music circuit. Whereever she ends up, Hindi Zahra is a compelling performer who has already gifted us with an atmospheric, endlessly tuneful album.

 

EBO TAYLOR: THE AFROBEAT/HIGHLIFE CONNECTION

     When I was in Nigeria from 1974 - 1977, I was lucky enough to be in West African during a golden age of music. The West African music scene during the Seventies rivaled San Fransisco during the 1960's, Kingston, Jamaica during Seventies, Detroit during the 1960's, New Orleans during the 50's and early Sixties, the UK during the Sixties and so. The amount and variety of music was staggering. In a Nigerian city you could walk down the street and hear Afrobeat, reggae, juju, highlife, Congo sounds, funk, R & B, Indian film music, and myriad traditional styles blaring out of open shop doors. Unknown to many outside Africa, there were thriving rock and funk scenes in West Africa as local musicians created music influenced by The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, Motown and a host of funk bands such as The Meters, War, Mandrill and of course James Brown. In eastern Nigeria they had a number of bands operating under the "Eastern rock" banner. But the sound of "African rock" bands was different than American or British rock bands because these bands were using indigenous rhythms as a base. So there might be a screaming, distorted electric guitar solo or a Western melody line but it was incorporated in an African context. In Nigeria, there were bands such as BLO, The Funkees, Joni Haastrup Experience, The Strangers, Elcados, and many, many more. At the time I was far more interested in artists such as Fela, Sunny Ade, Ebenezer Obey, Victor Uwaifo, and Sonny Okosun who were playing what was to me a far more interesting progressive African music. Though I recognized the musicianship of the rock and funk bands and appreciated the grooves, what they were doing was derivative to my ears plus the songwriting and singing was not always up to the bands back home. Nonetheless they were part of an incredibly fertile scene.

      At that time, Fela was a towering figure. He may not have been the sole inventor of Afrobeat (Orlando "OJ" Ekemode certainly had a hand in it) but he dominated the genre. Other artists presented their own brands of Afrobeat but they often sound insubstantial in comparison to Fela's powerful, fully-realized version which was fueled by Fela's outsize personality and confrontational political stance. Still musicians across West Africa and even into other parts of Africa heard Fela and incorporated elements of Afrobeat into their music.

     In Ghana, meanwhile, the scene was vibrant. Ghana was the land of highlife; the style emerged most strongly there and had dominated the country's popular music scene from the late Forties on. Though Nigeria had a very vibrant highlife scene, with many popular bands in both Western Nigeria and Eastern Nigeria, by the Seventies Nigerian highlife had been eclipsed by Afrobeat, juju and funk/rock, and was considered to be the music of the older generation and the elite. But in Ghana, highlife still ruled and in the Seventies a number of progressive bands such as Bunzu Sounds, Hedzolleh Soundz, Sweet Talks, Basa Basa Soundz, Pat Thomas and others had revitalized highlife by incorporating elements of Afrobeat and funk. The Afrobeat injection was only fitting since highlife was one element in the formation of Afrobeat. Indeed Fela had started out playing his own style of highlife jazz.

       Ebo Taylor was born in a small town on Ghana's Cape coast in 1936 and therefore came of age during highlife's golden era in the Fifties. His professional musical career began as a guitarist with the noted highlife bands the Broadway Dance Band and the Stargazers. When he started his own band, the Black Star Highlife Band, sponsored by the Ghanian government, he made a point of incorporating jazz into highlife. In the Sixties he found himself in London, where he hung out with Fela, who was studying music there and gigging on the fertile pan-African music scene in that city. When Ebo returned to Ghana, he produced recordings and composed for Pat Thomas, C.K. Mann and others and began creating his own recordings which brought together elements of Afrobeat, jazz, funk and various traditional Ghanian musics. Unlike others, he wasn't imitating Fela but creating his own unique mix.

      As so often has been the case for veteran artists in the hip-hop era, Ebo Taylor's career was re-energized with the R & B singer Usher's hit "She Don't Know", featuring the rapper Ludacris, sampled one of Ebo Taylor's Seventies classics, "Heaven." As a result, he was invited to record a new album, backed by members of a multi-national Berlin-based Afrobeat collective. The resulting album, LOVE AND DEATH came out two years ago and is one of the best post-Fela Afrobeat albums. Ebo has been quoted as saying he deliberately set out to make a mainly Afrobeat album in order to perpetuate the style. The title track is a strong re-make of one of his Ghanian hits from forty years ago. Soon after a collection of some of his best vintage recordings from the Seventies, LIFE STORIES: HIGHLIFE AND AFROBEAT CLASSICS, was released by UK label Strut Records. This collections gives a more well-rounded overview of Ebo Taylor's artistry, a shifting mix of highlife, funk, and Afrobeat which showcases his versatility.

       Hot off the presses is a brand new Ebo Taylor collection, APPIA KWA BRIDGE, which is a nuanced, deeply rooted expression by Taylor. The compositions are very much informed by traditional songs, folk tales, proverbs and Ghanian history. At least one track is pure Afrobeat and one is pure highlife, rooted in the clasic highlife hit "Miss January", but most of the tracks are Ebo Taylor's organic fusion of highlife, funk and Afrobeat, all beautifully recorded. What stands out is the quality fo the compositions. So at the age of 76, it may be that Ebo Taylor has released his ultimate artistic statement. Far from sounding retro, it comes off as vital and fresh, and ultimately, thoroughly enjoyable. So it is one of those wonderful stories of a pioneering musician being rediscovered, revitalized and celebrated in the sunset of his years. We must give thanks that Ebo Taylor is still around to grace us with new music!

Grammy Rant!

      I'm writing the evening after the annual Grammy Award show. I don't usually watch the telecast. Like so many others I have too often found the proceedings to be superficial, hypocritical, wildly inappropriate or often in simply bad taste...with a few moments of genuine feeling or notability interspersed. So in recent years I just glimpsed portions when other members of my household turned the show on. This time, spurred I think by Whitney Houston's untimely death, I did tune in from the beginning of the broadcase, curious and hopeful, to see if this event, which in appearance anyway, is a communal celebration of the the music industry, would in some way acknowledge and perhaps ameloriate the shock and sadness being felt by so many members of the music community. I wondered if the Grammy Awards would rise to the occasion, understanding that given the timing of Whitney's death, only 24 hours prior, that any such effort would be challenging.

     The Grammy Awards have become notorious for getting things wrong--sometimes even wildly wrong on even basic facts, as when an artist wins a Grammy in a category that they clearly do not fit. The Awards do not necessarily reflect artistic quality or achievement nor do they necessarily reflect what is most popular. The Awards are the result of an often quixotic, often highly political process. Too often the Awards are a result of simple ignorance. Given that, it is somewhat surprising that these awards mean so much to artists, producers, songwriters and other honorees. But maybe that is not too surprising as the awards are supposed to be an honor bestowed by their peers in the industry. For too many artists, their sense of self worth is enhanced or diminished by whether they win a Grammy. The most bemusing example that I can recall is when Black Uhuru, a militant, politically-oriented Rasta reggae group whose hard-hitting lyrics castigated Babylonian corruption, won a Grammy for Best Reggae album one year. Their lead singer, Michael Rose, began calling himself Michael "Grammy" Rose....how could an exile from Babylon be proud of winning a Grammy?

     Grammy Awards, contrary to popular belief, don't, by and large, have much impact on sales. Oh, if you win Record Of The Year or perform on the show, and your record label markets behind that, an artist can see a sales jump. But most of the awards in most categories have zero impact on sales.However, winning a Grammy can confer a certain amount of prestige to an artist and can make the artist more worthy of media coverage or more worthy of a booking at a high-end venue. So it does have some practical value.

     I guess the only reason I care about the Grammy Awards is that so many artists who I know or work with badly want to win one. For that reason, I do my best to help that achieve that goal. As a NARAS member I understand the process...and will reveal it here:

     The whole Grammy selection process is greatly misunderstood by the public and even by many in the music industry. First of all, the Grammy Awards are made by NARAS, which stands for the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences. Only NARAS members may participate in the process. Who are NARAS members?  Music industry professionals who have created, contributed to or worked on recordings in certain capacities:  musician, singer, producer, songwriter, engineer etc. Only those people can be NARAS members. A radio promotion person, or publicist, or A & R person (if he or she has never done any of the things above), booking agent, record company administrator, club promoter etc etc are not eligible to be NARAS members. You must be eligible, according to whether you have fulfilled certain criteria in participating in the recording process. Finally, you can only be a member if you join NARAS and pay the annual dues; many eligble people in the industry do not join.

     Voting NARAS members are the ones who determine who wins a Grammy. The process works like this: recording companies and NARAS members have an opportunity at certain points during the year to submit recordings in one of more eligible categories for consideration to be on the Grammy ballot. NARAS screening committees check out the recordings to determine if they in fact do qualify to be in that category and whether they meet certain other criteria (like being released during a certain time frame to qualify for that year's voting).  Contrary to popular belief, the screening committees do not have latitude to pick what recordings they want to go on the ballot EXCEPT to determine if they fit the basic criteria and fit in the submitted category. If a recording doesn't fit a certain category, the committee usually recommends it to another category. A friend of mine was vilified in Jamaica because he was on the reggae category screening committee and some people in Jamaica thought that meant he could determine what went on the ballot or what recordings would win. Not true!

       Once the screening is done, all the eligible recordings are put in the relevant categories on a ballot which is sent out to the entire NARAS voting membership. Some artists think that if they make it to this stage they've somehow been nominated. Not true. They are just on the ballot. Once the members vote--at least the members who bother to vote--the top five vote-getters in each category become the nominees. An artist who makes it to this stage has been nominated for a Grammy Award. Then there is a new ballot with all the nominees in each category and the members vote. The votes are tallied and the biggest vote getters in each category become Grammy Award winners in that category:  "Best R & B Vocal Performance", "Record Of The Year", "Best Instrumental Jazz Solo" etc.

       Various people try to influence the voting in various ways. Some companies take out advertisements touting their artists' nominations. E-mail, phone and word of mouth campaigns are often conducted to urge people to vote for one artist or another. People in an organization are urged to vote for artists associated with that organization. Larger companies have an advantage in that they can afford to take more and larger ads and also they have more people who may be NARAS members who likely will vote in support their artists. But in the end it is the individual votes of the individual NARAS members who bother to vote that determine the winners. The problem is, many of the voters are not expert in the categories they are voting for.  Often they simply vote for a familiar name. This explains why back in the late Sixties/early Seventies, BB King won the Best Blues Album award several years in a row; he was probably the only blues artist many members had heard of. Similarly, anyone with the name "Marley" or the word "Marley" in an album title tends to win a Grammy in the Best Reggae Album category. Beyonce won "Best Traditional R & B Recording" one year. So the winners are very much the product of happenstance--how many of the eligible voters vote; how many members vote in categories they don't know much about; how much name-recognition plays into the process and how much promotion/politicking plays in. This is why the results have too often been absurd.

        To its credit, NARAS has attempted to address some of these problems. Over the years the screening process was refined. Members are urged to vote only in categories of which they have knowledge. Members are forbidden to do overt politicking and the ballot info is labeled "proprietary" so that companies cannot be too specific in their advertising/promotion efforts. But these efforst fall short of their goal.

      Sometimes the process can be maddening. This year, I submitted the outstanding Afro/French group Les Nubians for the Best World Music Album category. But when I received the nomination ballot, I did not find Les Nubians. I called the NARAS office and was informed that the world music screening committee had determined that they did not fit that category. Les Nubians was shunted to the Alternative screening committee, who also rejected them, and then to "Best Pop Vocal Album" category, where they were accepted. Of course this was ludicrous. The artists in the Best Pop Vocal Album category were mostly mainstream pop artists. Les Nubians are African/French in ethnicity, their music combines elements of African styles, Caribbean styles, hip hop and R & B. In addition, their album hit #1 on the Billboard World Music chart. By any sane measure, they are world music artists. But the world music committee didn't think so and so they ended up being moved from a category where they had a good chance of winning to a category where they had no chance of winning. This move, in my opinion, cost Les Nubians, at minimum, a Grammy nomination this year.

       You may also have heard that during this past year, the NARAS powers that be eliminated a large number of categories, many of the ethnic--such as Best Native American Album--and others niche--such as best Alternative R & B Performance--consolidating and combining categories as well as eliminating some. Under Americana, for instance, recordings as diverse as folk singers and zyedeco artists were put together. What this meant is that many artists categories and many ethnic artists suddenly have little or no chance of winning a Grammy. This is particularly unfortunate because it is precisely these artists who often most benefit from winning a Grammy. It can be crucial to winning limited booking opportunities or being accepted into the mainstream or getting media coverage. This was done without seeking the input of  the NARAS membership.

     What to do about the Grammy Award process? I'm afraid it cannot be fixed satisfactorily. I personally urge that the categories that were eliminated be reinstated. And I am agitating toward that goal. But it is impossible to ensure that the Grammy Awards reflect the true excellence of artists in a given year. So why are the Grammy Awards relevant? Because the artists care. And for that reason I stay active as a NARAS member, I vote as responsibly as I can, and I advocate on behalf of artists I know to be worthy. I do so knowing that I am part of a flawed process that all too often yields bittersweet results.

      And this year's Grammy broadcast? Based on my glimpses of previous years, I'd say it was the best in a number of years. LL Cool J was a good host--much more real, down to earth and classy than many hosts in recent yeras.  He began the evening with a prayer for Whitney Houston, heaftfelt and simple.The sets and overall production I felt were often spectacular.  The artist tributes to Glen Campbell, The Beach Boys and others were nicely done, with younger artists performing their songs and then the celegrated artists themselves performing a song. And Jennifer Hudson gave an emotionally committed and nicely delivered tribute to Whitney. So maybe there's hope.

 

NEW GEMS FROM AFRICA!

     In America, unlike Europe, the wave of music from around the world, under the rubric "world music", has crested and seemingly receded. Fewer artists from non-Western countries are highlighted in the media, tours in America by these artists have become less common (in part because of a much-tightened visa process), and the network of world music radio shows has diminished. As a result, America has to a significant degree missed out on much of the ongoing development of music by artists around the world and that development has been fascinating in many cases. Thanks to the internet, digital techology, cell phones etc, musicians even in far-flung corners of the world are connected to the global grid; they are hearing and being influenced by music around the world to a greater degree than ever before. In short, many more musicians are creating outside a particular ethnic or cultural genre. Musicians are incorprorating diverse musical elements into their music in the most natural, organic way because they are hearing them. So I'm going to take a moment to highight four recent "world music" releases that I think are particularly outstanding...all of them happen to be from Africa.

       Thandiswa, a 35 year-old female vocalist from South Africa, is a great example of an artist who has assimilated many influences and used them to create fresh, consistently exciting music. Born in Soweto and raised by activist parents during the apartheid era, Thandiswa began singing by entering talent contests and though she didn't advance far, she was asked at age 22 to join the ensemble that came to be called Bongo Maffin. The group was one of the pioneers of the kwaito style, which became the new urban dance music for South African youth. But unlike dance music in many other countries, kwaito often delivered social commentary and, in the hands of Bongo Maffin, political conciousness, as they blended elements of reggae, soul, township jive and club beats. Thandiswa's powerful vocalising led her to be hailed as "the next Miriam Makeba" (it seems any outstanding new South African female vocalist gets the "next Makeba" tag). Bongo Maffin, as favorites of "conscious" youth, became one of the most popular groups in the country. Thandiswa launched her solo career in 1994 with her "Zabalaza" album, which interspersed tracks of traditional acapella vocals with full-band tracks that blended Xhosa song, mbaquanga, reggae, kwaito, funk and jazz, with Thandiswa's voice soaring over it all. Her follow-up "Ibokwe" came in 1999. Both albums went gold in South Africa. The delightful thing about Thandiswa is that she has assimilated so many different styles so completely that when she creates a piece of music the various elements drawn from different styles come together completely organically. Both albums are delights from start to finish but if I had to just own one, I'd go for "Ibokwe."  Here's some video of Thandiswa in action, on a relatively conventional update of township jive:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HACpBsSCMpg

      Fatoumata Diawara is another female African artist but from a very different part of Africa--Mali--with very different musical traditions. Fatoumata, now 29, came to music in her late teens; she actually began as an actress, studying drama in France and appearing in a number of films by African film-makers. Her experience is cosmopolitan and though much of her music is rooted in the Wassalou musical traditions of her family, like an increasing number of African musicians of her generation, she creates a new pan-African or at least pan-regional style. She also participated in Dee Dee Bridgewater's excellent "Red Earth" album, one of the most artistically successful collaborations between an American jazz musician and African musicians, and Herbie Hancock. Fatoumata took up guitar, playing both acoustic and electric, and this past year saw the release of her debut album, "Fatou." It is a gentle, riverine flow of music that integrates electric bass and percussion with guitars in a way that is African but not tied to any one tradition. Fatoumata herself is a vibrant, radiant spirit in her singing and dancing. Here's a bit of the joyous vibe of Fatoumata Diawara:

     www.youtube.com/watch?v=E82BifytoYY

      Moving to the Northeast quadrant of Africa, we find the Asmara All-Stars from Eritrea. An initial listen to their music may lead you to to identify them as Ethiopian but of course Eritrea, which borders Ethiopia and was fused with Ethiopian by colonial powers, nonetheless has a very distinct and ancient culture and history; the ancient land of Punt was probably located with in the area that came to be called Eritrea.  The Ethiopian music scene of the late Sixties and Seventies yielded some of the most unique sounds and rhythms on the planet, a curiously haunting meld of traditional vocal styles, jazz, R & B/funk and, sometimes, reggae (no surprise since Jamaican Rasta musicians looked to Ethiopia as the promised land (and a number of them traveled there, forming a settlement at Shashamane). Apparently many of the leading musicians on the Ethiopian music scene were Eritrean, hence the reason that the music of the Asmara All-Stars sounds reminiscent of classic Ethiopian music. The other reason that the Asmara All-Stars sound uncannily like the great "golden era" Ethiopian sounds is that the music scenes in both Ethiopia and Eritrea were artificially stunted. In Ethiopian, the oppressive military regime that ousted Emporer Haile Selassie, shut down the nightlife scene that had supported the popular bands. So popular music in Ethiopia did not develop for two decades at least. Meanwhile, the Eritrean independence movement led to 30 years of war between Ethiopia and Eritrea, which effectively islolated Eriterea. So the music of the Asmara All-Stars is in a way like a thawed out classic Ethiopian band that had been cyrogencially frozen for decades. Put together by a French producer, they play a vibrant mix of Ethio-jazz, funk and reggae. Here they are in lives performande; the sound level is low but the performance encompasses about three different songs: 

     www.youtubecom/watch?v=w_nnYug8Z0

      Finally, we have El Tanbura, which, even more than the Asmara All-Stars, is a kind of musical resurrection. In the town of Port Said, a vibrant cafe scene catering to sailors, among others, spawned a healthy array of musicians. In the 1930's, there appeared musicians palying the simsimiyya, an ancient lyre that had been played in the region of the red sea since ancient times. Musicians playing the simsimiyya, and a repertoire of music associated with it, became very popular in Port Said cafes, supplanting other local styles. But as Port Said developed, the vogue for simsimiyya music waned and gradually the musicians who played it stopped performing and resorted to other occupations, such as fishing. In the 1980's, Zakaria Ibrahim, a man who had heard this music as a boy, began searching for these musicians, hoping to resurrect the music before it died out completely. He succeeded in forming El Tanbura in 1989 with many of the master musicians and singers who had popularized the music. They began playing in Port Said to receptive audiences, performing a repertoire of popular folk songs. After some years they found themselves performing to great acclaim in European concert halls. El Tanbura's music is a joyous mix of vocals (a lead singer and chorus) backed by an array of percussion, including drums, tambourines, finger cymbals and triangle, as well as, of course, the simsimiyya. The result sounds to my ears most often like the Berber music of North Africa. Though the material is mostly hoary traditional songs, there is nothing stilted or constrained about El Tanbura's performances. It is beautifully recorded, vibrant, and inviting. It sounds like the communal party music that it is, not much different from what you would have heard in Port Said 60 years ago!  Here is a taste of El Tanbura:

     www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJPRMRzyzMs

       So there you have it, great new recordings from far-flung regions of Africa, as delightful and fulfilling as anything on the contemporary music scene.

The Death Of R & B?

THE DEATH OF R & B?

 

        Country music, blues, jazz, gospel, rock ‘n’ roll and R & B—these are the bedrock styles of music in America. And all of them at one time or another have been considered an endangered species. In the case of  R & B, its death was proclaimed—an analyzed-- in print back in 1988 by Nelson George in his book THE DEATH OF RHYTHM & BLUES. And you hear with reasonable frequency these days the question: what happened to R & B? How come there isn’t any good R & B any more?

         The question rings a bit odd to me at this moment, considering that today I enjoyed very much the new Anthony Hamilton CD BACK TO LOVE, which lovingly and pretty effectively updates classic R & B for today’s listeners. Anthony Hamilton is a true R & B singer, very much rooted in classic R & B of the late Sixties and early Seventies. The most salient fact about him for this discussion is that he sells a lot of records today—hundreds of thousands of each release and has radio hits (“Woo,” the hit from his new album, is really good!).  And he’s been doing this successfully for close to 10 years.

       But Anthony Hamilton is notable because he is exceptional, one of a small handful of true R & B artists who continue to experience commercial success and have profile in the mainstream culture. Of course there are many other artists making R & B music, ranging from revivalists such as Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings, Tre & The Revelations, Eli Reed & The Paper Boys, neo-soul artists who meld R & B vocal styles, from the Seventies especially, with elements of hip-hop or jazz (Jill Scott or Lalah Hathaway for instance) or contemporary iterations of R & B styles such as Mary J. Blige or Cee-Lo Green. So, no R & B isn’t dead, but the small numbers of current R & B releases with any kind of national profile (only a few dozen annually according to Grammy nomination lists) suggest it may be on life support. As far commercial radio play goes, it is pretty much ghetto-ized on “urban adult contemporary” stations—whose playlists are dominated by hits of the 70’s and 80’s to cater to their mostly over-35 demo—with a few releases slipping through on “mainstream urban” stations, whose playlists are dominated by hip-hop to cater to their under 25 target demo.  There are is a whole host of vibrant  R & B/”soul” artists with generally small grassroots, niche or underground audiences generally 30 and up but they are off the radar of most as their music is not being exposed into the mainstream. R & B is well on its way to becoming a traditional music—like blues.  Does it really have to be that way?

       The mainstream media tends to treat R & B with benign neglect, covering just a few favored artists. The year-end “best of” lists of Rolling Stone and The New York Times had virtually no R & B releases on them, unless you count Beyonce (I don’t) and Rolling Stones’ inclusion of the album by Charles Bradley, a not especially great Sixties-style R & B singer dug up by revivalist Daptone Records. In so doing, they ignored really fine singles and albums by Jill Scott, Anthony Hamilton, R Kelly, Mint Condition,  Anthony David, Donell Jones, Kindred The Family Soul, Betty Wright, Syleena Johnson, Kelly Price, Ledisi, and more. And these were not obscure releases; many sold well, quite a few had radio hits. But they weren’t considered of interest or of importance by the mainstream (mainly white) music critics.

       It is interesting to note that 60’s R & B/soul revivalist artists tend to have white audiences while neo-soul or artists drawing on 70’s R & B tend to have black audiences.This suggests something about the way the artists are marketed or the appeal of their images to their respective audiences.

       What, then, are the reasons for the decline of R & B?  I remember the beginning of the change when disco became popular and all of a sudden singers such as Gladys Knight, Patti Labelle, and Aretha Franklin were having trouble scoring hits. Disco was first and foremost a producer’s medium, albeit one with live musicians—for a while, anyway! Shortly after that, in the early Eighties, new technology—drum machines, synth basses, keyboard synthesizers, sequencers-- became available that enabled recordings to be made by one person, thus accelerating the trend of producer as artist. This trend diminished the value of studio musicians; where musicians were used, it rarely was in a live band performance context, so the spontaneous interplay of musicians was lost. The “cut-and-paste” aesthetic of hip-hop and its immense popularity as the new music of a generation (or two!) further devalued the contributions of musicians and singers. Singers became just one more element to be plugged in by the producer and technology enabled the producer to shape, fix and otherwise enhance a weak singer’s vocals. Video—via MTV and BET—exploded, placing a premium on looks over musical talent. One wonders if Aretha Franklin had emerged in 1989 instead of the Sixties whether she would have made it!  The rise of hip-hop and dj culture decimated the live band club scene, particularly in the realm of black music. Where the Seventies and early Eighties had a multitude of great black music bands, as I write now there is only one prominent R & B band on the national stage—Mint Condition. So the spontaneous gestation that used to take place in the clubs, where new talent could hone their chops and learn the art of performing, has largely disappeared. As commercial radio formats tightened and hip-hop started to dominate, R & B started to recede from popular consciousness. By the mid-Nineties, aspiring artists who might be drawn to R & B had few artistic models to learn from. And fewer young folk were interested anyway; after all, you could get someone to make you some beats, rap over it and have a shot at making some big money.

        So that’s where we’re at today; R & B has been marginalized and is in danger of become a traditional music, created for niche audiences, at best. Could it stage a resurgence?  Anything is possible but much would have to change.  The hope is that there is a musical void that people would like to see filled. You often hear statements such as “where is the good R& B today?”  The funny thing is, sometimes the person saying that refers to the Nineties as a time when R & B was really good!  George Clinton has stated the place to find real funk today is in church. Many churches have live bands for services and of course the choirs continue to be training grounds for young singers. You can still hear great singers in church and it is there that musicians and singers can perform without the pre-fab constrictions of commercial music-making.  If a consistent live outlets for R & B/funk/soul could emerge , along the lines of the fabled Black Lilly in Philadelphia during the late Nineties and early 2000’s, that would be a step in the right direction; even one such outlet in every large and medium-size city. And a new radio format would be nice—one combining R & B, groove jazz, neo-soul, a bit of dance music, maybe a touch of hip-hop, intelligently programmed. You can find such programming on the internet (we recommend Soul Patrol Radio at www.soul-patrol.net for a wide-ranging black music experience). Any serious resurgence generally is led by a young artist—a new Prince, perhaps, fantastically talented who can appeal to a young generation. Let an exciting new young R & B artist break through and you we might have something. Until then, we need to support the quality R & B artists that are recording and performing live. But that takes some pro-active looking, which seems to be beyond all but a small percentage of people. But those people can keep the flame burning until a few more logs get thrown on the fire!

Betty Wright And The Roots!

    When I heard that Betty Wright was recording an album with The Roots, I had mixed emotions. On the one hand, The Roots are one of only a couple of prominent current R & B/rap/funk aggregations who could possibly engage with Betty in a productive way. Also, their name would draw attention to the project, be a media focus, and help get the release into stores. On the other hand, these kinds of cross-generational  collaborations often go off the rails; either the younger generation is too deferential and distanced from the older artist's music to deliver something vibrant or else they plug the veteran artist into a contemporary style that isn't really appropriate. And, for that matter, while The Roots are solid enough as a band--and their current stint as house band for Jimmy Kimmel has only broadened their palette-- I can't say they ever really impressed me with their musicianship.

     Betty Wright, though, is no shrinking violet. She is one of a dwindling number of real Southern R & B artists still in command of her considerable powers. Even though her first charting record was over forty years ago, she was only 15 when she recorded it....so in 2011 she is still vocally in her prime. Her 1971 "Clean Up Woman" classic has been sampled and borrowed on a number of hip hop/contemporary R & B hits, as have a number of her other recordings. She never had a spectacular voice but it has always been strong, rich, vibrant and she always put a song across with in-the-pocket phrasing. When she sings, you believe her--it is from the heart and full of wisdom. Also, she was an artist who "rapped"--in the old, pre-hip-hop sense of the term-- like Isaac Hayes, Millie Jackson and Bobby Womack, delivering down-home philosophy and social commentary, as on her celebrated intro to her 1978 hit "Tonight Is The Night, an extended live version of a minor hit she recorded three years earlier. She also is a songwriter. After a ten year run of hits on various labels owned by Florida impressario Henry Stone, she started her own label, Ms. B Records, and had some hits writing, producing, and releasing her own material, most notably "No Pain No Gain" in 1988. Even if she didn't always have national hits, she sold well in the South. By the 90's even the regional hits were drying up (despite the release of her "U-R-A-Ho(And You Don't Know)"!....but she was active as a writer, producer, background singer and performer. She kept current, never simply content to trade on past glories....as a result she was tapped to mentor UK teen wanna-be soul chanteuse Joss Stone, producing, coaching, arranging and otherwise contributing to Stone's best-selling debut.  People in the business with any kind of knowledge know that Betty Wright is a triple threat talent and a force to be reckoned with--an undervalued asset to be sure!

       So, I ordered the new album, entitled "Betty Wright: The Movie", suggesting that it is a "more-than-the-sum-of-its-parts" concept album, produced by Betty and Questlove of The Roots. When it arrived in my mailbox, I rushed to put it on while cruising around doing weekend errands. The opening track sounded ok but simply is not a great song; called "Old Songs", it is one of thse songs about music that only occasionally are special (cf "Sweet Soul Music" by Arthur Conley or "It Will Stand" by The Showmen). The second cut had a classic Betty Wright vibe over a hip-hoppish funk groove...promising! But somehow the results are less than the sum of the parts, it doesn't quite  jell. Nonetheless I was glad that the production approach was to preserve the essence of Betty's style and just give it a bit of contemporary gloss. Track #3 "In The Middle Of The Game(Don't Change The Play") was more promising...classic 70's R & B vibes and the guitarist has his Little Beaver licks down. But the song is just fair and I began to think the album was going to fall into the "nice try" category.

      Track #4, "Surrender" changed my mind. It's a classic soul ballad, with only the slightest updating; sounds like a hit; paydirt!  Track #5 "Grapes On A Vibe", is a great mid-tempo bit of philosophizing, marred only by an completely unnecessary Li'l Wayne rap, which isn't terrible but just sounds kind of weak compared to the quality of Betty's singing and songwriting and the groove. But the song is so strong that Li'l Wayne is a minor distraction, as is the Ernie Isley-style guitar workout running through  much of the song.

       From that point on, the album just flows, prime, classic Southern R & B , ranging from highly enjoyable to great, with quite distinctive songwriting. "Hollywounded" is gritty message ballad about a young woman scuffling as she navigates the Fast Lane life and tries to keep things together for her children. "Whisper In The Wind" (how often do you hear a title as evocative as that on today's R & B/hip-hop scene?) is a real nice mid-tempo groove, graced by the lines "is that all our love has been...just a whisper in the wind?"  Now there's some lyrics, people! Ex-Tower Of Power vocalist Lenny Williams appears with pleasant results, Joss Stone inoffensively graces another track, Robert "The Messenger" Bozeman actually lays down a much better rap than Li'l Wayne's effort on "Hollywounded" and Snoop Dogg manifests pleasantly enough Track Two. But the tangential efffect of the guests is due to the power and expressiveness of Betty's singing; she really didn't need any guests. And The Roots? Various Roots band members and associates (James Poyser), paly just fine but they are simply some of the roster of session players....and their biggest contribution is that of their brand, a blessing on the project, along with Questlove's contribution of co-producer (whatever that may be....Betty, who has been producing herself as well as others for a long time, really didn't need a producer).  The final two tracks are labeled "bonus tracks" (not sure why....when CD's first came in they often had more tracks than the LP or cassette, to justify a higher price--hence the trend of "bonus tracks" but these days the term holds little meaning.  But in any case, the two bonus tracks on offer here are strong. "You And Me, Leroy" really feels like a Curtis Mayfield ballad; it has that lightness and lyrical feel that Curtis brought to his compositions. The final track is a live recording of a song called "Go!"; Betty introduces it with a monologue and a straightforward declaration: "this is a song about abuse!" It is a typically unvarnished, to-the-bone look at abusive relationships. Betty's message: "get the hell out of it as soon as possible..." 

      "Betty Wright: The Movie" doesn't seem to have any programmatic agenda, as far as I can see. It is just a collection of really good, sometimes great music, unselfconcious soul music delivered by one of the masters of the genre, looking neither backward nor too far forward.It may start a little slow but it has far more music quality music on it than most contemporary releases. It is the Betty Wright you know and love! And thank God for that...it has been too long since Betty delivered a musical feast!

 

My Encounter With The Velvet Underground

      Usually I write about music of Africa and the African Diaspora but my listening habits have always been wider than that. As a musician my first band experiences were with rock bands in the Sixties, what were later called "garage" bands. Rock music in the Sixties was exciting because it seemed from 1964 through 1969 that every few weeks something really different would surface. One of the most unique musical entities to emerge was The Velvet Underground, who were formed in 1965 and relased their first recording in 1967. A number of truisms about The Velvet Underground are oft repeated. One such truism is that not many people actually saw The Velvet Underground perform but most of those who saw them went on to form bands, which is a clever way of saying they were highly influential, out of proportion to their relatively limited record sales. Although it is true they didn't sell a lot of records relative to more popular rock bands, and they didn't play vast numbers of dates, they were nonetheless a working band from 1966 through 1970 or so, playing regularly in places where they were accepted--Boston and Cleveland, for instance. They would have played even more places had they been more widely accepted. So it wasn't like they were impossible to see.But their music was challenging to say the least and went against the grain of most of what was going on in the rock scene of their time.  My thoughts about the Velvet Underground were triggered by seeing a blog post about a bootleg LP of one of their live performances at a venue called The Gymnasium in New York City in 1966, a recording I had heard about but didn't know was available.  I had been searching for decades for more of the music that The Velvet Underground made in their original recording incarnation:  Lou Reed on guitar and lead vocals, John Cale, bass, keyboards and electric viola, Sterling Morrison, guitar and bass, and Maureen Tucker, drums. A fifth member, sometime vocalist/fashion model/actress Nico, appeared on their first album and was part of a number of early shows, but was had been foisted on the band by Andy Warhol and was only half accepted by the band during her brief tenure. By 1968, Cale had left and the band's sound was never the same, though they made much great music after his departure. I was one of the fortunate few who witnessed the original line-up of The Velvet Underground live and have been longing ever sense to hear of the astounding, profoundly powerful music they made in that incarnation.

       My encounter with The Velvet Underground came about by sheer chance.  A schoolmate of mine, Tommy Sellers, had a band called The Muffins, who had scored a recording deal with RCA Records. To mark the occasion of the release of their first single, they had a show in the summer of 1967 at The Trauma, Philadelphia's first "psychedelic" nightclub. I went to celebrate and support a band of guys from the Philly suburb where I lived, who seemed to be "making it."  When I arrived at the Trauma with my friends,  I saw that there was an opening act: The Velvet Underground. I had never heard of them but the word was  they were "from Boston" (which wasn't true but the rumor probably started because they played so much at The Boston Tea Party in Boston--more there than in the city where they had been formed--New York City).

         At the appointed time, the four members (Nico wasn't present) of The Velvet Underground walked out--looking nothing like the paisley/day-glo/tie-dyed denizens of The Summer Of Love. For one thing, they were all dressed in black and three out of four of them were wearing shades. The one person who was not wearing shades had close-cropped reddish hair and as he/she took up a position standing behind the drums,  it wasn't immediately clear if he/she was a man or woman.  The drum set was odd--the bass drum was turned horizontal and he/she held mallets in his/her hands, not drumsticks. One of the guys, with long straggly hair and a wispy moustache and beard that somehow suggested a raggedy French bohemian, brandished an electric viola. The other two held electric guitars. None of them smiled. The leader--who I later learned was Lou Reed--stepped up to the main microphone and pronounced one word in a flat monotone: "heroin."  The band then kicked into a repetitive two-chord pattern puncuated by accents from the drummer's mallets. Holding it all together was a whining, droning sound as the singer intoned "I....don't know...just where I'm going...but I'm...gonna try....to nullify my life"....the music surged forward, propelled by galloping, uneven drumming as the singer spoke/sang the experience of a heroin addict shooting up. Several minutes in, the viola player began hitting atonal runs and the leader unleashed screeching feedback from his guitar amp--a cacaphony erupting from the steady drone, an expression of transcendence of some sort. It was the loudest music I had ever heard; even though they just had medium sized Vox and Silvertone amps, they played at the pain threshold. Other people were using feedback during that period--Jimi Hendrix, Peter Townshend of The Who, Jeff Beck of The Yardbirds-- but none of them used it like The Velvet Underground, playing off the drones, unleashing wild, oscillating shrieks for minutes at a time. The front man was running his fingers up and down his guitar neck--either it was just random picking or else he was doing some brilliant stuff.  Some ten minutes in, the sonic storm resolved on a pure D chord, all the droning notes coordinated, a triumph of sorts--survival of psychic storm. The song depicted a horrific reality and yet it was beautiful at times. Those who later said the song glorified drug use couldn't have been listening to carefully; the horror outweighed the bliss but it was simple honesty to portray the bliss that led people to indulge despite the horror. And that was just the first tune!  I can't say I understood all that was going on that night; nor would I say necessarily that I "liked" it. But it made an indelible impression on me; I had never heard any music like it before.

       Two months later I was away at college and during freshman week, before the upperclassman arrived, the college radio station--which was piped into the dorms--played pre-recorded programs of music.  In that week, the same program would play at the same time each day. As it happened, I had a late morning break each day and as I came back to my room I would hear the same songs. One of them was "Heroin" by The Velvet Underground. Hearing it daily, I began to understand it and marvel at its megnificence. The campus cafe and bookstore had a small selection of records and one day by chance I saw in the racks an LP by The Velvet Underground. The cover was simply a yellow banana on a white background--a creation of Andy Warhol, whose name was emblazoned on the cover. "Peel Slowly and See" read the small type on the cover....the banana skin was a decal that could be peeled back to reveal a pink banana inside.  I bought the LP and took it back to my dorm room. The music on that album was sometimes tuneful, often confounding or alienating. There were songs about drugs but not the "let's all get high" celebration of pyschedelics purveyed by so many Sixties bands; no, these songs were about the grimy realities of scoring and doing heroin. Other songs dealt with sado-masochism, death, alienation, and love. Aside from a rock re-write of Marvin Gaye's "Hitchhike" and a pleasant little pop ditty called "Sunday Morning" and a pretty love ballad called "I'll Be Your Mirror", the music on the album was ragged, raw, aggressive, dissonant and often tied together with drones. On "Run, Run, Run", the initial notes of the guitar solo bleed into a screech of feedback as Lou Reed hits the solo, much of which is double-picked.  "The Black Angel's Death Song" is a repetitive dissonant viola pattern that sounds almost North African at times behind declaimed poetry. It all added up to some of the most powerful music I'd ever heard.

       I became a fan of The Velvet Underground. Within a year there was a second album, "White Light, White Heat"; the LP jacket was pure black, though if you tilted it at a certain angle you could see some sort of shape within the blackness. The sound of the album was different than the first one, grungier and even rawer if that's possible. One side had ditties about methamphetamines and a short story called "The Gift" about a man who had himself mailed in a box to his girlfriend as a surprise present, only to perish as the eager young woman plunged a pair of scissors into the package to open it up--this tale delivered in a plummy British accent. The other side had only two cuts, a rampaging "I Heard Her Call My Name" ("and then my mind split open..." Reed sang just before the solo, his words punctuated by a squeal of feedback) and the epic "Sister Ray", a repetitive narrative about some sailors, a junkie and a prostitute over hugely distorted guitars and electric organ propelled by an unvarying pile-driving machine-like drum pattern. There was no bass. Maureen Tucker on drums was no virtuoso but she could deliver a beat with metronome-like precision, which was important because an essential element of the Velvet's music was hypnotic effect from repetition and the drones.    

   After "White Light, White Heat", John Cale left the band and The Velvet Underground's sound altered radically. Cale and Lou Reed had a tremendous creative tension--not unlike that of John Lennon and Paul McCartney--that resulted in something more than the sum of its parts. One reviewer described them as having "two of the heaviest nervous systems on the planet" and that sounded about right. Though both did create challenging, occasionally very good or even great music apart, their true peak came when they worked together.  The third Velvet Underground album was sonically restrained compared to their previous work, often tender, intimate, subtle; the songs focus more on love in all its manifestations, as well as spiritual transcedence and redemption. There was even a song called "Jesus." Much of it is quite beautiful and there is wisdom in many of the songs. But it sounds conventional when put alongside the first two. The band's fourth and last album, recorded as the group was disintegrating, is sonically even more conventional, the production feeling a bit freeze-dried and bloodless. Nontheless there are a number of very good songs, with Reed's ever-provocative lyrics; "Sweet Jane", in particular is a joyous hymn to the liberating potential of rock 'n' roll. Reed wrote with a literary sensibility, limning characters as a novelist would, or stringing together clusters of words as a poet would.

       I saw The Velvet Underground--without John Cale--a couple more times before they split. Both times they were pithy, punchy, and special. But I still longed for the wild improvisation and raw sonics of their original incarnation. There were flashes of that; John Cale and Lou Reed re-united for a celebration of their mentor, Andy Warhol--the most impressive "Songs For Drella."  And the original band reunited for some European dates once....I would have flown to Europe to see them if I had known they would split up again before they could tour the U.S.  A video documents that reunion and they sound great; it is the same vibe that I witnessed back in 1967, marred only by Lou Reed's somewhat shaky vocals.  But it was clear that they still had the special chemistry that defined them as a band. Anyway, this is why the news of the Velvet Underground bootleg "Live At The Gymnasium" is so exciting to me. Besides great versions of songs such as "Run Run Run", "Waiting For My Man" and others from their debut album their are a couple songs that hadn't been on their recordings. And the sound...it is the sound I heard at The Trauma-- a sound that will never come again.

Reggae Still In The Ghetto

     This week was marked by two happenings involving reggae. One was the news that Leonard "The Ethiopian" Dillon had passed away. Best known as the lead vocalist and founder of seminal roots group The Ethiopians, he had also had a significant solo career. Never one of the the biggest reggae artists and not well known outside of Jamaica and roots-reggae circles worldwide, Leonard's passing leaves a void in the Jamaican music firmament. His music was very much rooted in Jamaican traditional styles--mento and gospel music among others. His lyrics sprang from the the sayings of common people, folk wisdom, proverbs and the Bible. His career pre-dated reggae and his first recordings came in the ska era. Breaking through with "Last Train To Skaville" around 1967, The Ethiopians scored a number of hits in Jamaica into the reggae era, often with timely social commentary as on such songs as "Everything Crash."  When his partner, Steven Taylor was killed in a car crash in 1975, Dillon carried on solo, recording a magnificent album entitled "Slave Call" under the name The Ethiopians in 1977 and recording thereafter as The Ethiopian. Aside from his seminal music, Dillon was a gentle, radiant spirit according to those who knew him.

      The other happening in my life that involved reggae came about when I was listened to the local "urban" (read "hip-hop dominated) radio station, Power 99 in my car. Out of the blue they played a straight-up reggae tune that sounded stylistically as though it could be a Tenor Saw (popular reggae dancehall singer) song from the late Eighties. It is always a suprising and all-too-rare thrill to hear authentic on mainstream commercial radio in America. But I couldn't place the song. When I got home, I googled the hook lyrics of the song and found it was Rihanna's latest single "Man Down."  Suddenly it was more understandable why Power 99 was playing it. If it had been a less well-known artist, particularly a Jamaican artist, chances are it wouldn't have been on the playlist. Rihanna comes by the reggae vibes honestly; she's from Barbados and her first single was the credible, if lightweight, dancehall reggae of "Pon De Replay."

       What does Power 99 playing a reggae cut have to do with Leonard Dillon's passing? On the surface, very little. But there is a connection. I started listening to reggae in 1972 and, like so many others, was captivated  by this completely unique, evocative, powerful music style which very frequently delivered social/poitical commentary and spiritual inspiration sorely lacking in much of popular music during the latter half of the Seventies and Eighties. I became a crusader for the music, proselytizing in various ways, writing about the music and eventually  launching and hosting the Roots Rock Reggae radio show on WXPN-FM in Philadelphia for a number of years. At that time, aside from Album Oriented Rock (AOR) radio, most commercial radio stations shunned reggae. Even Bob Marley never had a true radio hit in America. Not a few programmers at stations playing R & B disparaged it as "jungle music."  From time to time, though, something would break through, a reggae tune would be come a pop hit. Often it would be by a non-Jamaican artist, such as Eric Clapton's "I Shot The Sheriff" or Blondie's "The Tide Is High." This began to change somewhat in the late Eighties, thanks to an interchange between hip-hop and reggae. Some of the pioneering figures in hip-hop--Kool Herc for one--were Jamaican or Caribbean and it is clear that some key elements of hip-hop came from Jamaican music. There was also an increasing socio-cultural interchange between the ghettos of Jamaica and the ghettos of America. In any case, by the Nineties, it was becoming fairly common for Jamaican artists to have break-through hits on "urban" radio stations....songs such as Shabba Ranks' "Wicked In Bed", Super Cat's "Ghetto Red Hot", Dawn Penn's "No, No, No", Mega Banton with "Sound Boy Killing" and many others. As recently as a few years ago Damian Marley scored a huge hit with "Welcome To Jamrock", which had a classic rockers reggae rhythm and sampled Barrington Levy. In a strange way, this was a fulfillment of Bob Marley's dream, which he related to me during the one time I had extended face time with him; he always wanted reggae to be heard by the African-American community at large and to be played on Black radio; maybe he wouldn't have appreciated many of the particular recordings that achieved this but I think he would have been gratified on some level in any case. Nevertheless, for a variety of reasons, this trend dwindled until in recent years such crossover hits have become rare. And that's why I was so shocked and delighted to hear Rihanna's "Man Down."  Of course, in my heart of hearts, I had wanted Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, Dennis Brown, The Mighty Diamonds and other message/roots artist to get commercial radio play in the States.  Why not The Ethiopians? Much of their music is catchy and universal. Hey, maybe some hip hop artist will sample The Ethiopians--if they haven't already! But I'm not holding my breath. Meanwhile, I'll take out my Ethiopians records and play them....and also enjoy Rihanna's latest "Man Down."

Candice Anitra: Crossing Boundaries

    It it all too rare for me to hear a new artist and think "now this is something truly fresh...and good!".  That is the reaction I had when I first heard Ledisi. And the reaction I had when I first heard Amy Winehouse (way before her U.S. debut). I'm having that reaction now to the music and videos and, quite frankly, the interviews I'm encountering by a thirty-something singer named Candice Anitra. I first encountered her on Soul Bounce, where they were touting her video "Objectify", which cleverly combines animation and straight videography in a series of vignettes wherein different people direct negative or unwanted speech or action at her and she draws a box around them--neutralizing them. It's catchy, and fun and makes a point at the same time. Here it is: 

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8aoFfCz3Luc

     Candice herself comes across as attractive without going out of her way to play up her sex appeal, streetwize but in an easygoing way.

     This clip sparked the same reaction I always have when I come upon a unique, talented, substantial artist; I want to hear, see, learn more. Internet searches turned up more videos, more song clips and some interviews and articles. One video clip was footage of Candice recording a song called "White Lines" with a band in what looks like someone's apartment or loft. This tune is a rocked up old-school R & B groove and Candice delivers a completely natural un-mannered Southern-Soul-styled vocal, demonstrating clearly that she knows that music and has the chops vocally to deliver it.

       Then there's the video of the song she did in response of the passage of Proposition 8 in California, surpressing same-sex marraiges. Titled "We Got Love", it intercuts short dialogue scenes between couples of diverse genders and ethnicies...talking about their love for each other, underlining the the common essence of love among all who love no matter who they love.  It makes its point in a most un-preachy, effective way.  In short, she is socially and politically acute and sometimes uses her music as a weapon, as Fela would say. "We Got Love" and her advocacy on the behalf of the LGBT community has made her visible--and appreciated!--in that strata. Another song is reportedly a riposte directed at conservative agit-prop commentator Ann Coulter.

      Another video finds her in various guises including wearing a tie and a charcoal moustache. In one interview she stated that though she is hetereosexual,  "I explore the fine line between the up, the down, and the polarities that exist in us all" and elsewhere suggests that true sexiness comes from that exploration.

      She deals with serious subject matter but in an entertaining, undidactic way, with humor, quirkiness, even playfulness. Musically, she roams and his hard to classify--and in fact it would seem that the point of her artistic expression is to demolish classifications.

       All this would be of minor consequence but for the fact that she has a resonant voice and can sing. And she can write melodies. That makes her dangerous! Too many musical artists with "something to say" don't have the vocal chops nor the songwriting ability to really communicate beyond an intellectual level. She's got the intellect--in fact so far everything I've seen emanating from her radiates intelligence. But her expression has many levels--intellectual, yes, but also emotional, and spirtual.  In her vocalizing, she cites Ella Fitzgerald, Sam Cooke and Nancy Wilson as inspirations; for telling stories through song, she name-checks Bill Withers. The lady has great taste in antecedents. But unlike so many artists who cite iconic artists as influences, Candice's artistry does reflect elements of her musical insprirations.

      Where did she come from?  Well, Philly, in point of fact...and was on the Black Lilly scene there. Moved to New York to attend NYU and lives now in Brooklyn, where she swims in the fecund music/arts scene swirling there. Don't know how I missed her up 'til now. Might've heard her name but did not focus on her.

       I don't say it often...you will be hearing from Candace Anitra, if you haven't already. Check her out; you'll be glad you did!

An Emerging World Music Star From South Africa

      In the past decade or two, a new breed of artists has been emerging on the world music stage. Unlike the giants of world music who emerged in the Seventies and Eighties--Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, Bob Marley, Youssou N'Dour, Nusrat Fateh Ali-Khan, to name a few--this new breed functions like the American and European artists who interpolated and assimilated elements of various foreign musical cultures into their music. Everyone --even people in rather remote areas--is now plugged into the same global grid. Bottom line: if you have access to a computer--or even a mobile phone!--you are in touch with and immersed in music and culture from the entire globe. So artists such as Rokia Traore from Mali, Chieck Lo from Senegal, Manu Chao from Spain, Chino from Jamaica, Buika from Spain and many more make music that may be rooted in the musical culture of their homelands but they take musical elements from any number of other cultures to create something fresh and unique. Indeed some of the most compelling artists now emerging are progressive artists originating outside the Western world. 

     One of these artists is Simphiwe Dana from South Africa. Now thirty years old, she has just released her third album, "Kulture Noir," and it confirms her as sublime artist of great depth. She's been called "the new Miriam Makeba" but any strong new female vocalist in South Africa tends to acquire that label. Her vocal style, though grounded in some of the same vocal traditions as Makeba's, isn't all that similiar. Others have compared her to Erykah Badu, though that seems more based on her "look" and presentation; on her first two albums she sported a huge elongated headdress a la Badu; in truth she sounds nothing like Badu. Dana was trained a as graphic designer  so her album graphics, videos and personal presentation reflects an edgy, striking ambience, as seen in this video:

           http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gRm74OwziZ4

  More apt is the label "South Africa's answer to India.Arie."   On the first two albums, her sound incorporated South African traditional music and township styles, jazz and soul/R & B. At times she could present as a jazz singer:

         http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DNbjCmW5g4E

The new album feels more organic and skews that balance much more toward South Africa. But each track has elements from beyond the South African universe. The opening track, "Ndimi Nawe," is a stately 3/4 time groove created by acoustic piano, electric bass, acoustic guitar, trap drums, hand percussion, synthsizers, sitar, tabla and vocal chorus. Sung in Xhosa, it is a recognizable South African song form but the production and subtle contributions from the musicians take it beyond typical South African traditional or popular song. In the end it is uniquely gorgeous, led by Simphiwe's passionate, robust yet finely calibrated singing."Ndim Iqhawe Part 2", on the other hand, offers a gently rolling groove rooted in township jive and jazz anchored by strutting electric bass and jazz chords on the acoustic piano and chattering electric guitar. The groove intensifies as the musicians add inspired, unique embellishments with Simphiwe riffing and commenting vocally. "Zobuya nin iiNkomo" opens with a kora over electronic keyboard lines. Simphiwe sings with great deliberation and the results are unlike anything else I've heard. Perhaps the standout track on the album is "Undishiyilo", which is based on a slow, loping jive groove overlaid by strings and electronic elements, a percussion figure and trap drums. Everything about the track is understated, with Simphiwe laying in the groove, unhurried, until halfway through she soars up into the upper portion of her register, declaiming soulfully. The musicians move with her, intensifying the music in most subtle ways. It is simply mesmerizing.

      "Kulture Noir" is mostly slower tempos and overall a mellow, almost meditative mood. The sonic palette shifts from song to song but it all coheres into an organic whole. You hear familiar sounds and rhythms but Simphiwe and her cast of impressive musicians create novel uses for these familiar elements.

      Simphewe Dana has been touring in Europe for the past years but has yet to tour in America. As far as I know she has never performed here, though she has done some recording in the States. If she does make to America, run don't walk, to see her perform. Meanwhile, enjoy the three outstanding albums she's recorded to date, the impressive resume of an emerging star.

      

    

Treme'

      There's been a lot of publicity about the HBO tv series Treme', and deservedly so. Now in its second season and produced by the team that brought us the acclaimed series "The Wire", Treme is a slice-of-life, music-driven drama set in post-Katrina New Orleans and featuring an indelible cast of characters from diverse walks of life. Many people really don't know what the title "Treme''" refers to. It is a reference to the New Orleans neighborhood of Treme', a pivotal area adjacent to the French Quarter that has been of great significance in New Orleans history and culture. Treme', you see, may be the oldest African-American neighborhood in the country and certainly was the oldest residential area for "free people of color" in the slave-holding South. In New Orleans, under the sway of French law, a slave could under certain circumstance obtain his or her freedom. As such Treme' was a cultural cauldron. In the early 1900's Treme' including the area dubbed "Storyville", which became the officially designated area for legal prostitution. It was an entertainment district and musicians were an important part of the district's life. Jazz didn't start there but in the houses of ill-repute and adjacent inns, "piano professors" and small combos provided exposure for hot new musical styles. Even after legal prostitution was ended in the area, the district was a vibrant entertainment center, with many nightspots and bars featuring music. Then in the 1930's the buildings in the district were leveled to make way for the Iberville housing projects. A lot of history was wiped out but the neighborhood character remained unique--close-knit and a spawning ground of musicians.

      When Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, Treme' was flooded but did not suffer as much permanent damage as many other areas. But the authorities prevented residents of housing projects--including Iberville-- in the city from returning to their homes in the projects, under the guise of safety concerns. A plan was floated to demolish the projects and replace them with lower density housing. This plan was suspect since most of the projects were still habitable. It seemed dubious that the replacement housing could accomodate all the former residents of the projects and of course there was a question of what would the displaced residents do in the meantime--assuming they could afford the new housing options. Some residents did return to the Treme but post-Katrina edicts by city officials and aggressive policing made their lives difficult. It become common to hear stories of neighborhood residents being harrassed by police for simply sitting on their front steps, drinking a beer. In addition, traditional gatherings--parades staged by Social Aid And Pleasure Clubs, Mardi Gras Indian gatherings and brass band street parties--were targeted by the city. The cost of permits were increased to the point where these events were threatened.  Concerns about crime caused police to supress them. As a result, some of the oldest cultural traditions of New Orleans were undermined; their very existence was threatened. These traditions were and are the well-springs of New Orleans music.

        Real estate speculators began buying up property in Treme as, ironically, with the success of the television series, guided tours began bringing tourists through the neighborhood, even as the people of the neighborhood, whose forbears had helped create the neighborhood's culture, were being forced out. The very unique qualities that make Treme historic and cultural important are being wiped out at the exact moment that the district is being celebrated internationally.  A movement is underway to combat this trend and to support long-time residents. A documentary film "Fauborg Treme'''", which was begun prior to Hurricane Katrina, was completed and is available on DVD.

        New Orleans has a poor record when it comes to supporting indigenous New Orleans music. The current assault on one of the most culturally important parts of the city falls in line with that trend. New Orleans music has been nurtured by close-knit families and rich neighborhood relationships. If those familial and neighborhood grassroots relationshps are severed something irreplaceable will be lost. Watch the documentary, tune in to Treme' and get involved in the Treme' preservation movements. It is not yet too late!