Hijaz (Tunisia/Belgium)
Nahadin (2014)
7 tracks, 38 minutes
Bandcamp ∙ Spotify ∙ iTunes
Back when I used to write reviews regularly for fRoots magazine, I apparently somehow gained a reputation as a connoisseur of music from the Middle East and North Africa, and as a result I was sent loads of albums from those regions for review. Out of those, an extremely common subsection emerged: Arabic jazz. This stuff is being made all over those regions (and further afield), and each group has their slightly different take on it, but after a while, all these albums seemed to blend in with each other. Nevertheless, this one, Nahadin by Hijaz, stood out as particularly special.
The impression starts before you've even pressed play: the album has a beautiful cover that you unfortunately cannot appreciate fully in its digital version at the top of this post. The album's jewel case is enclosed in a sleeve of entirely off-white, textured card with what I think is the album's title, written in ornate Arabic calligraphy, embossed on the front. Always lovely to have pleasing visual (and tactile) art to accompany the musical. That musical element is similarly pleasing. The Arabic elements – most recognisable in the contributions of the oud of Moufadhel Adhoum and the vocals of Abir Nasraoui – are met with absolutely top-class jazz, and every one of the musicians ably blend the two in their performance; a real highlight of this can be heard in the piano solo by Niko Deman on the first track, 'Nahadin'.
A lot of these sort of Arabic jazz experiments stick to meditative styles, or at least to atmospheres that bring to mind Arabic classical music – serious, intense and introspective. But Hijaz aren't afraid to go upbeat and lively with it, even with their all-acoustic ensemble – see the track 'Desert Dancer', which starts with a funky double bass, joined by Arabic percussion, buzzing oud and finally piano, bringing in all the sophisticated influences and ambitions while losing none of that funk – or fun.
I still do write for fRoots occasionally, even sometimes about North African musicians (you can read my article on also-Tunisian musician and producer Sofyann Ben Youssef in the current issue!), although I rarely write of Arabic jazz nowadays. However, in a surprisingly crowded marketplace, Hijaz and Nahadin still stand out as a high point of musical expression and close intercultural collaboration.
My 2019 challenge: I'm going to post a little something about an album (or somesuch) that I like every single day. Written by Jim Hickson.
Showing posts with label Belgium. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Belgium. Show all posts
Monday, 1 July 2019
Friday, 7 June 2019
158: Naktės, by Merope
Merope (Lithuania/France/Belgium)
Naktės (2018)
9 tracks, 53 minutes
Bandcamp ∙ Spotify ∙ iTunes
Now here is a particularly nice coincidence! Today’s album is from a group fronted by Lithuanian musician Indrė Jurgelevičiūtė – the very same Indrė Jurgelevičiūtė that made such lovely music on yesterday’s ‘album.’ Well, how many others do you know?
Merope are a trio whose music is based on traditional Lithuanian folk songs or – in the case of their own compositions – heavily influenced in that direction. But although that is the jumping off point, Merope themselves are decidedly not traditional. Indrė on the kanklės zither and song anchors them in the Lithuanian repertoire, Frenchman Jean-Christophe Bonnafous plays the bansuri flute from the Hindustani classical tradition and Bert Cools from Belgium contributes layers of guitars and electronics.
The group say of Naktės that it ‘presents a world full of wonder, inspired by the atmosphere of the night,’ and that certainly comes across. While the sound is very calm throughout, it often blossoms into the mystical and spectral, and there’s even something a little unsettling about it at times. The bansuri obviously brings an Indian edge, but it’s also used in a more freeform way, making sounds for their timbres as well as just their tones. The electronics also create this feeling, with sheets of hypnagogic noise that brings to mind the washed-out retro synths of vaporwave but in a more ambient context. And when the electronics turn their attention to the kanklės, processing the instrument’s twinkling strings, it echos the higher-plane-inducing sound of Laraaji. Altogether, the instruments and sounds coalesce and disperse like the Northern Lights, a soundscape rooted in place but with license to soar.
Naktės is Merope’s third album, but this is actually the first time I’d heard of them, and asking around, it seems like I’m not the only one for whom they’ve flown under the radar – and it seems like a popular album once people get it in their ears. So here you are then: this is Merope, they’re a good band and Naktės is a good album. And if you don’t know, now you know.
Naktės (2018)
9 tracks, 53 minutes
Bandcamp ∙ Spotify ∙ iTunes
Now here is a particularly nice coincidence! Today’s album is from a group fronted by Lithuanian musician Indrė Jurgelevičiūtė – the very same Indrė Jurgelevičiūtė that made such lovely music on yesterday’s ‘album.’ Well, how many others do you know?
Merope are a trio whose music is based on traditional Lithuanian folk songs or – in the case of their own compositions – heavily influenced in that direction. But although that is the jumping off point, Merope themselves are decidedly not traditional. Indrė on the kanklės zither and song anchors them in the Lithuanian repertoire, Frenchman Jean-Christophe Bonnafous plays the bansuri flute from the Hindustani classical tradition and Bert Cools from Belgium contributes layers of guitars and electronics.
The group say of Naktės that it ‘presents a world full of wonder, inspired by the atmosphere of the night,’ and that certainly comes across. While the sound is very calm throughout, it often blossoms into the mystical and spectral, and there’s even something a little unsettling about it at times. The bansuri obviously brings an Indian edge, but it’s also used in a more freeform way, making sounds for their timbres as well as just their tones. The electronics also create this feeling, with sheets of hypnagogic noise that brings to mind the washed-out retro synths of vaporwave but in a more ambient context. And when the electronics turn their attention to the kanklės, processing the instrument’s twinkling strings, it echos the higher-plane-inducing sound of Laraaji. Altogether, the instruments and sounds coalesce and disperse like the Northern Lights, a soundscape rooted in place but with license to soar.
Naktės is Merope’s third album, but this is actually the first time I’d heard of them, and asking around, it seems like I’m not the only one for whom they’ve flown under the radar – and it seems like a popular album once people get it in their ears. So here you are then: this is Merope, they’re a good band and Naktės is a good album. And if you don’t know, now you know.
Wednesday, 2 January 2019
002: Tikounen, by Kel Assouf
Kel Assouf (Niger/Belgium)
Tikounen (2016)
12 tracks, 50 minutes
Bandcamp · Spotify · iTunes
When I saw Kel Assouf live for the first time at WOMAD in 2016, it was a breath of fresh air.
For a long time, the Tuareg guitar music that was so exciting when Tinariwen first crept onto the scene – seemingly direct from the heart of the Sahara desert with their loping grooves and tagelmust headdresses – had really lost its shine. There were just so many Tinariwen-alikes, none of whom came close to the original, and very little variation on the theme. Maybe there was a drum kit here, a little distortion there, but nothing mind-blowing. Even earlier on at the same WOMAD festival, Imarhan, who had been touted as the next big stars of this genre called essouf, just struck me as more of the same.
But then, Kel Assouf happened. Their sound was huge. Fronted by Anana Harouna brandishing a flying-V with relaxed ease and backed by a mix of Belgians and Nigeriens on drums, synths and bass, this was some of the heaviest punk blues I’d heard for a long time. It still had all of those elements so striking of Tuareg music – the forever repeating riffs on one chord, the camel-gait rhythms, the spacious pentatonic melodies – but it all came together with crashing cymbals, aggressive distortion and delays, and funky bass from the synth. There were also rhythms from further north, Morocco and Algeria, and organ that could have been straight from Billy Preston. They actually looked and sounded like they were having the time of their life. Yes! This was the kick up the arse that it needed to be!
Tikounen is the album that captures the heaviness and excitement of Kel Assouf the best, so far, but that may change next month: their first album in three years, Black Tenere, comes out at the end of February, so that’s one to keep your ears out for. But until then, this album will more than suffice – get it on, get it loud and get moshing!
Tikounen (2016)
12 tracks, 50 minutes
Bandcamp · Spotify · iTunes
When I saw Kel Assouf live for the first time at WOMAD in 2016, it was a breath of fresh air.
For a long time, the Tuareg guitar music that was so exciting when Tinariwen first crept onto the scene – seemingly direct from the heart of the Sahara desert with their loping grooves and tagelmust headdresses – had really lost its shine. There were just so many Tinariwen-alikes, none of whom came close to the original, and very little variation on the theme. Maybe there was a drum kit here, a little distortion there, but nothing mind-blowing. Even earlier on at the same WOMAD festival, Imarhan, who had been touted as the next big stars of this genre called essouf, just struck me as more of the same.
But then, Kel Assouf happened. Their sound was huge. Fronted by Anana Harouna brandishing a flying-V with relaxed ease and backed by a mix of Belgians and Nigeriens on drums, synths and bass, this was some of the heaviest punk blues I’d heard for a long time. It still had all of those elements so striking of Tuareg music – the forever repeating riffs on one chord, the camel-gait rhythms, the spacious pentatonic melodies – but it all came together with crashing cymbals, aggressive distortion and delays, and funky bass from the synth. There were also rhythms from further north, Morocco and Algeria, and organ that could have been straight from Billy Preston. They actually looked and sounded like they were having the time of their life. Yes! This was the kick up the arse that it needed to be!
Tikounen is the album that captures the heaviness and excitement of Kel Assouf the best, so far, but that may change next month: their first album in three years, Black Tenere, comes out at the end of February, so that’s one to keep your ears out for. But until then, this album will more than suffice – get it on, get it loud and get moshing!
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