Writing about Rabat. What can I say? I spent nearly a week in Morocco's capital city, and I've seen just about all that it could offer someone who doesn't live there. But I spent most of my day preparing for the night, as the 9th Annual Mawazine Festival of World Music was on for my week there. F***ing fantastic.
This was one of those moments where luck and good timing led me to the right place. I'd heard of the Mawazine Festival as I passed cafés and restaurants with television usually tuned to football or National Geographic Abu Dhabi (they really watch a lot of National Geo here, I don't know why). But I had no idea who was playing, where the concert was, how much it cost. Then, walking the streets of Marrakesh, I saw an enormous billboard featuring a man in a fedora and black jacket, head bowed to the camera: Carlos Santana at Mawazine. Tickets on sale for 600 dirham (about $70). I froze. Immediately thoughts of "If only" and "Can I afford that?" began to sweep through my head. I knew some other Volunteers would be in Rabat for their mid-service medical appointments around that time, so I thought, "Why not join them and see how the spirit moves me."
As the week of the festival drew closer, I saw more and more coverage on the national channel: Julio Iglesias, Sting, Carlos Santana, BB KING?! BB King is 84 years old these days. I decided then and there that even if it meant dropping $70, I had to see him. It might be my last chance.
I met up with a Volunteer who'd been evacuated way back in the day from Madagascar, a friend of a friend kind of thing, for a beer. He was off to see Seun Kuti that night. It was a free show, I was welcome, why the hell not? I'd never heard of him, but boy, do I know him now. Seun Kuti's father is Fela Kuti, the Nigerian musician who pioneered Afrobeat, a mixture of African rhythms, highlife, jazz, and funk. The show rocked. It reminded me of everything I love about Africa. At one point Seun said something along the lines of "I want you to shout out as loud as you can, because in Africa, we don't talk small. We shout out with every part of our soul!" I'd never thought about it before, but he was right, and it's what I love about the continent. Africans tend to make everything big. Anyone who's ever been in a group of Africans know how loud and boisterous they can get, throwing around jokes and stories like no others. And as I look to some of my favorite artists: Howlin' Wolf, Etta James, Muddy Waters, I think that tendency to pour your soul out in one loud cry crossed the Atlantic and defined American music of all stripes.
Okay, so now I'm hooked. Free shows and some amazing new music on my first night in Rabat. Next up: Cheikh Tidiane Seck. I'd seen this guy at the Festival in the Desert in Timbuktu. Crazy to think that that was over five months ago, and here he is again in Morocco. He took me back to my Sahelian roots with his rockin' take on traditional griot music and some of those lovely, full-bodied Malian women, who probably shook it a little too much for a Moroccan audience. That's fine. Let's let the Malians shake things up a bit.
So two shows down, I start to look for who I want to see, who I can see for free. This can't be right. Elton John is playing for free to those who don't mind standing a football pitch away from the stage. I am THERE! Evidently, this show almost didn't happen, as some conservative imams in Morocco cast Elton John as a menace to good Islamic values. But the show went on as planned, rightfully, as the concert organizers noted, as it's a festival to bring people and cultures together for a proper, respectful cultural exchange. As I walked up to the jangling piano of Tiny Dancer, I knew I'd made the right decision to stay in Rabat for the duration of the festival. I have to say though, after the African bands, that I was a bit disappointed by Elton John as musician. The technicality isn't as high quality as those others. And the lyrics aren't all that great, in the end. I mean, are there any other lyrics to Bennie and the Jets other than "Buh Bennie and the Jetssssssssssssssssssss?" But damn. You do have to hand it to the man. He knows how to put on a spectacle. Eventhough he sings everything down an octave these days (I should never be able to sing along with Tiny Dancer in anything but a falsetto), you gotta hand it to him: the songs are catchy, and he knows how to catch your eye.
Elton John turned 63 this year. That's almost as old as my Dad, and I don't think I could see him putting on a show like that. Though strangely enough, I can imagine him in purple sunglasses and a coat and tails, the sleeves embroidered with a rainbow-colored shooting star. That weird? Didn't think so. BB King, however, will be 85 this year, and that just blows my mind. 84 years old and still touring? Not just touring, but touring internationally and taking on a gig in Morocco? I had to see it. I'd heard rumors he was playing from a wheelchair these days. I'd seen Maynard Ferguson, right at the end of his life, and while the old boy could still blow, he usually needed about ten minutes to rest from the minor heart attack suffered after each solo. It's just not the same with a guitarist. Old BB King took the stage and man, could he riff. And his band, a bunch of crusty old guys just like him, well, they didn't miss a beat either. In fact, I think they've all gotten better with age. Of course, they can ham it up with the best of them now. Going into the show thinking that these old guys probably don't have the pads or the chops to rock just lets them blow you even further out of the water. I only hope they come through Indiana while I'm at home, so I can get another chance to see them shine. Damn. I can't write about music and give you the visceral response of being there, but I was dancing the whole night and longing to see him up close.
Last night: Carlos Santana. I've been listening to Santana since 8th grade. Twelve freakin' years! Ya, remember Supernatural? The album that exploded with collaborators like Eric Clapton, Dave Matthews, Wyclef Jean, Lauren Hill, and who could forget Rob Thomas's work on Smooth, that song you couldn't escape for an entire summer. Santana, like Sir Elton, is 63 this year, but I'd like to say, this is one of the best shows I've ever seen. I would have dropped the 600 dirhams on the spot to have the chance to party up near the stage. But...I'm poor. As it was, I crammed in between a bunch of Moroccans who could appreciate the music, but only as a show, not as an experience. There was one other guy, very close by, who, like me, knew all the lyrics, and we were having a time trying to get the others moving. But wow, that cat has only gotten better as the years have gone by. Never have I felt music approach the level of frenetic ecstasy as I had that night.
The continuing theme with these three big acts were these guys who are up there and have been up there now for decades. With all the support I can give to Sir Elton and his band, they're all pretty old dudes who nevertheless have never slowed down. And while they may not have cut their hair since they started touring in the 70s, you gotta hand it to them: when you're that good, you don't have to. Watching BB King was like hanging out with the old guys at the mosque in Niger: they don't need to say much, because whatever comes out of their mouth will have you rolling in the aisles. And it's obvious they just love it. It's a great thing to see guys up there just having fun. Santana brought in some young guys, but when you have to play that hard for that long, you need stamina. I don't know how he does it, but I only hope that I have that kind of strength when I hit 63. These are old musicians who won't fade away, and with this much life, I don't think I'll have to worry about catching the next show.
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
An Updated Festival and on to Ivory Coast
I've had some time on my hands in Ouagadougou (Burkina Faso), and I've spent most of it sleeping. I probably should be updating, telling stories of adventure in the desert, etc. But honestly, I've had to spend the last few days recuperating from all my adventures, and it's only now that I've gotten up the energy to write anything at all. You may think a Festival in the Desert is all fun and games, but it's seriously tiring. The artists played every night until about 4 in the morning. It'd be a stamina contest even without the freezing desert nights and days which felt as if you'd taken up residence in a brick oven. Unless you had a hotel room somewhere in the city (which I didn't), it was pretty difficult to get more than two or three hours sleep a night.
I'll take this as a side note: Timbuktu proved to me that I'm still not ready to return to America until they've officially outlawed winter. I kept trying to see my breath, swearing up and down in the sleep-deprived 3am jam sessions that it had to be below freezing. It wasn't. At the worst of my cold-addled dementia, I called my dad and said, "It's SO cold here!" "...We're getting six to eight inches of snow tonight." "Fine, you win. I'm never coming home."
I've gotten only jealousy from fellow Volunteers after telling them I just came back from the Festival. As Peace Corps Volunteers, we're treated the same as embassy workers, which means if they State Department puts out an alert or a warning, as in the case of Timbuktu and specifically the Festival, we're not allowed to go. However, thanks to the terrorists (jerks) I ended my service early and didn't have any restrictions. Hell, I could've even driven a moto up there (we're not allowed on motos in Peace Corps). So...sometimes every bastard terrorist provides a silver lining, which he then promptly kidnaps and holds for ransom (jerk).
The questions I've been getting? "Was it expensive?" So expensive...but so worth it. No more expensive than a festival in the U.S. or Europe, but such a unique experience. "Who was your favorite?" That's an impossible question to answer, if in part just because there was no schedule for who was playing when, and it was kind of hard to know who was who unless you had a real background in West African music. Which I don't. In fact, I would have to admit that I could never work for Rolling Stone. I don't pretend to know a lot about music. I get most of my music through word of mouth and Internet radio stations, so I can't really speak to melodies, harmonies, movements, modes, etc. I didn't even know who Tinariwin was before I went to this concert (I do now, and they're awesome!). But that's why you go to something like this right? If I weren't already in West Africa at the right time and within spitting distance of the right place, I probably wouldn't have gone, but things just worked out right. And it's an experience, am I right? Very few other people in the world can say they've been to a desert music festival and seen some of the greatest musicians of one of the most vibrant music scenes in all of Africa all in one place.
So who did I like? Who should you check out? Well the aforementioned Tinariwin was a treat. They're kind of the reason the whole festival actually exists. Their music was the voice of an entire people. Resistance music the likes of which the 60s couldn't have imagined. They were actually banned at one time by the Malian government, but their sound still traveled the country on bootleg cassettes. They played the first night of the concert, when it seemed like the entire city of Timbuktu had snuck in to the concert. That was the best part about that first night. The music, no matter how good it was, took a backseat to watching Tuareg and Songhaï, Fula and Bella rock out to an iconic national group. Vieux Farka Touré was particularly great in a tribute to his father, the late Ali Farka Touré, who died back in 2006. Amadou and Mariam, who began to hit it big on the hipster scene in America a few years ago, rocked out in the final jam session of the third night to wild applause. But perhaps my favorite, a Niger staple, was Mamar Kassey, a jazz/pop group whose music I'd always heard in Niger and never liked. It's because, like Tinariwin, all the cassettes I'd ever heard were on their fourth trip through the piracy chain and usually played full blast through crappy Chinese speakers that had survived God only knows what natural disaster to end up in the desert, filled with sand and shattered dreams (or something like that). I had to give props to Mamer Kassey, if for no other reason than because they're from Niger, but also because they rocked it out. It's hard to jam on a flute! It also helped a bit that they were the only band that played anything I'd ever heard before that night. Are you looking these people up? Seriously now, why are you even reading this if you aren't interested in seeing what I've seen? Go find some youtube videos! I'm not saying I'm fully converted to high-pitched, nasal singing, which is kind of standard in griot music, but I do have to say that the experience, like so much else in this world, is radically transformed by the performance, something unique in every time and place in which it takes place. It's the same difference between film and theatre, a vibrancy that is diminished when a living, breathing human being exudes a palpable presence from a few feet away. It's a feeling of being alive and totally within a moment, and technology has yet to take that desire for contact and immediacy away from us.
Well, to sum things up, I'm fully rested and recovered now, as I hope this post shows. It's a good thing too, since I'm on my way down to Côté d'Ivoire tonight to continue my journey across West Africa. I'll be in Bouaké, capital of the rebel New Forces, by tomorrow afternoon, and hopefully well on my way into the less civil war-prone south the day after. If you're reading this as I'm posting it, wish me luck, because I'm sure I'll need it, if nothing else than to deal with the graft. I've met a lot of people who are interested in this section of my trip: no Peace Corps to fall back on in a country not known for stability since a civil war a few years ago. I'll keep everyone posted and hope to have only good things to say in my next post.
I'll take this as a side note: Timbuktu proved to me that I'm still not ready to return to America until they've officially outlawed winter. I kept trying to see my breath, swearing up and down in the sleep-deprived 3am jam sessions that it had to be below freezing. It wasn't. At the worst of my cold-addled dementia, I called my dad and said, "It's SO cold here!" "...We're getting six to eight inches of snow tonight." "Fine, you win. I'm never coming home."
I've gotten only jealousy from fellow Volunteers after telling them I just came back from the Festival. As Peace Corps Volunteers, we're treated the same as embassy workers, which means if they State Department puts out an alert or a warning, as in the case of Timbuktu and specifically the Festival, we're not allowed to go. However, thanks to the terrorists (jerks) I ended my service early and didn't have any restrictions. Hell, I could've even driven a moto up there (we're not allowed on motos in Peace Corps). So...sometimes every bastard terrorist provides a silver lining, which he then promptly kidnaps and holds for ransom (jerk).
The questions I've been getting? "Was it expensive?" So expensive...but so worth it. No more expensive than a festival in the U.S. or Europe, but such a unique experience. "Who was your favorite?" That's an impossible question to answer, if in part just because there was no schedule for who was playing when, and it was kind of hard to know who was who unless you had a real background in West African music. Which I don't. In fact, I would have to admit that I could never work for Rolling Stone. I don't pretend to know a lot about music. I get most of my music through word of mouth and Internet radio stations, so I can't really speak to melodies, harmonies, movements, modes, etc. I didn't even know who Tinariwin was before I went to this concert (I do now, and they're awesome!). But that's why you go to something like this right? If I weren't already in West Africa at the right time and within spitting distance of the right place, I probably wouldn't have gone, but things just worked out right. And it's an experience, am I right? Very few other people in the world can say they've been to a desert music festival and seen some of the greatest musicians of one of the most vibrant music scenes in all of Africa all in one place.
So who did I like? Who should you check out? Well the aforementioned Tinariwin was a treat. They're kind of the reason the whole festival actually exists. Their music was the voice of an entire people. Resistance music the likes of which the 60s couldn't have imagined. They were actually banned at one time by the Malian government, but their sound still traveled the country on bootleg cassettes. They played the first night of the concert, when it seemed like the entire city of Timbuktu had snuck in to the concert. That was the best part about that first night. The music, no matter how good it was, took a backseat to watching Tuareg and Songhaï, Fula and Bella rock out to an iconic national group. Vieux Farka Touré was particularly great in a tribute to his father, the late Ali Farka Touré, who died back in 2006. Amadou and Mariam, who began to hit it big on the hipster scene in America a few years ago, rocked out in the final jam session of the third night to wild applause. But perhaps my favorite, a Niger staple, was Mamar Kassey, a jazz/pop group whose music I'd always heard in Niger and never liked. It's because, like Tinariwin, all the cassettes I'd ever heard were on their fourth trip through the piracy chain and usually played full blast through crappy Chinese speakers that had survived God only knows what natural disaster to end up in the desert, filled with sand and shattered dreams (or something like that). I had to give props to Mamer Kassey, if for no other reason than because they're from Niger, but also because they rocked it out. It's hard to jam on a flute! It also helped a bit that they were the only band that played anything I'd ever heard before that night. Are you looking these people up? Seriously now, why are you even reading this if you aren't interested in seeing what I've seen? Go find some youtube videos! I'm not saying I'm fully converted to high-pitched, nasal singing, which is kind of standard in griot music, but I do have to say that the experience, like so much else in this world, is radically transformed by the performance, something unique in every time and place in which it takes place. It's the same difference between film and theatre, a vibrancy that is diminished when a living, breathing human being exudes a palpable presence from a few feet away. It's a feeling of being alive and totally within a moment, and technology has yet to take that desire for contact and immediacy away from us.
Well, to sum things up, I'm fully rested and recovered now, as I hope this post shows. It's a good thing too, since I'm on my way down to Côté d'Ivoire tonight to continue my journey across West Africa. I'll be in Bouaké, capital of the rebel New Forces, by tomorrow afternoon, and hopefully well on my way into the less civil war-prone south the day after. If you're reading this as I'm posting it, wish me luck, because I'm sure I'll need it, if nothing else than to deal with the graft. I've met a lot of people who are interested in this section of my trip: no Peace Corps to fall back on in a country not known for stability since a civil war a few years ago. I'll keep everyone posted and hope to have only good things to say in my next post.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Bringing in the New Year at the Festival in the Desert
Totally exhausted, but, in this case, it's the best feeling in the world. I've averaged less than four hours of sleep for three days straight. I've suffered through freezing desert nights to see some of the best in West African music, and I loved every minute of it. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but it was an awesome, possibly once-in-a-lifetime experience. Everything just seemed to come together for an amazing start to the new year.
Well...let's back up a little bit. Actually, the new year didn't have such an auspicious start. I spent the first three days down with bacillary dysentary and felt like hell. Happy New Year. However, after two years in Niger, a little dysentary isn't the end of the world.
After I recovered, I took a trip up to Hombori, one of West Africa's premiere climbing destinations, and eventhough I don't climb, it did provide some great hiking opportunities. I didn't stay too long though as I didn't have a set ride up to Timbuktu, the Mysterious City, and the setting for the Festival in the Desert.
Hombori to Douentza. The dustiest bus ride I've ever taken, but within minutes of arriving in Douentza, I found a Land Cruiser filled with white people going up to the Festival. Four Australians, two Poles, a Dutch man, a British girl, two Malians, and me. None of us had reservations at any hotel or tickets, but things just worked out. The festival grounds were only a fifteen minute walk from our campement.
I wish I could describe this experience better. Let's put it this way: I was in Timbuktu, which I think we all feel must be the end of the earth after all the mythos of our childhood. I've got to say, as a tourist destination, Timbuktu seems to be relying on faded glory. It'd be a great archaeological site if people weren't still living there. Our campement was run by a Songhaï guy who was just freakin' stoked to learn that I spoke his language. Who ever said Peace Corps couldn't grease the wheels?
Like I said, the concert venue was a fifteen-minute hike from our campsite into the desert. I wish I could describe how amazing the whole experience was. One guy I talked to said it reminded him of an African Woodstock, which is pretty good considering the guy had actually attended the original. I wish I could say more about it at the moment, but I'm completely wrecked: exhaustion and three days of overstimulation. For right now, I'll just post the link. I'll try for something more later. Until then, enjoy this and look up some of the artists, though I'll tell you now, seeing them live was an unforgettable experience.
http://www.festival-au-desert.org/schedule-artistlist.html
Well...let's back up a little bit. Actually, the new year didn't have such an auspicious start. I spent the first three days down with bacillary dysentary and felt like hell. Happy New Year. However, after two years in Niger, a little dysentary isn't the end of the world.
After I recovered, I took a trip up to Hombori, one of West Africa's premiere climbing destinations, and eventhough I don't climb, it did provide some great hiking opportunities. I didn't stay too long though as I didn't have a set ride up to Timbuktu, the Mysterious City, and the setting for the Festival in the Desert.
Hombori to Douentza. The dustiest bus ride I've ever taken, but within minutes of arriving in Douentza, I found a Land Cruiser filled with white people going up to the Festival. Four Australians, two Poles, a Dutch man, a British girl, two Malians, and me. None of us had reservations at any hotel or tickets, but things just worked out. The festival grounds were only a fifteen minute walk from our campement.
I wish I could describe this experience better. Let's put it this way: I was in Timbuktu, which I think we all feel must be the end of the earth after all the mythos of our childhood. I've got to say, as a tourist destination, Timbuktu seems to be relying on faded glory. It'd be a great archaeological site if people weren't still living there. Our campement was run by a Songhaï guy who was just freakin' stoked to learn that I spoke his language. Who ever said Peace Corps couldn't grease the wheels?
Like I said, the concert venue was a fifteen-minute hike from our campsite into the desert. I wish I could describe how amazing the whole experience was. One guy I talked to said it reminded him of an African Woodstock, which is pretty good considering the guy had actually attended the original. I wish I could say more about it at the moment, but I'm completely wrecked: exhaustion and three days of overstimulation. For right now, I'll just post the link. I'll try for something more later. Until then, enjoy this and look up some of the artists, though I'll tell you now, seeing them live was an unforgettable experience.
http://www.festival-au-desert.org/schedule-artistlist.html
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