Greetings the whole bunch of you and welcome back for another hour of musical experience and possible discoveries with Sunday at Bob’s! This week we have a combination of recent surprises and dusty songs from the past. It is recommended to listen to today’s menu in the swamps, in the company of mosquitoes, with a glass (a bottle?) of corenwijn, remembering sweet tasting days. Let’s get to it.
We begin with a magnificent composition from a recently released mind-blowing album that I am still exploring. It is an album that reminds me of the thoughts written months ago about another album: David Axelrod’s Earth Rot. Apart from the assemblage of jazz and contemporary music, they have in common a very thick and complex layer of content. While Earth Rot addressed climate change, anthropocentrism and more generally human’s impact on earth using various aspects of the old testament if I am not mistaken (I still don’t have internet as we speak, so I am indeed walking on eggs here, I hope you understand), Duval Timothy’s Help addresses issues as various and crucial as neocolonialism, the musical industry, history, memory and of course legacy using the words of Pharell Williams (on the fact that it is common for record labels to own the masters of the artists they sign) for instance. The track in question, Slave, appears to me as a sort of point of reference the whole album will keep on returning to (in French we say fil rouge) giving to the whole a remarkable consistency I dare to compare to the one of Earth Rot, although it is achieved differently.
I allowed myself an attempt to pursue with a recording that seems to share very little with the introducing piece. Sometimes you have to try things and with a little push from destiny they will later turn out to be a fertile ground to the flowers of reflection, or not. Time will tell. Regardless I let you enjoy fifty delicious seconds in the great company of Šunđo Sajam’s voice.
It has been exactly six years since I encountered Roza Eskenazi, after inquiring about Greek music to a recently met friend who told me about the treasures of Rembetika. She hasn’t left my mind nor my hard drive since then. What a voice. I had planned to expand a bit on her but I reckon there is a lot of information on the internet already. I will say that we can hear her giving a shout out to the oud player Agapios Tomboulis with whom she was performing nightly at the Taygetos club in Athens before touring with him in Albania, Egypt and Serbia. I will also say that one of her songs, Πρέζα όταν Πιείς (When You Take Heroin), was censored by Greek dictator Ioannis Metaxas, who I believe did not only censored Rembetika songs but also imposed certain topics (love, mostly) and prohibited others (drugs, crime etc.) in their writings. I read that in a text about Markos Vamvakaris, explaining that it sort of ended Rembetika as it was and gave birth to a softer version of it called Laika. This is from memory, I hope it isn’t too far from reality.
We go on with a very cool song by the great Mohamed Mazouni who we had the honour of hearing here before. He comes back with a song where a young woman is alone in the cold street, looking for a husband. Say no more, replies Mazouni, I am here for you. To which she refuses, laughing at him and being in all honesty a wee bit rude but always rather funny. Mazouni has a collection of songs like this one taken from his own experience of being an Algerian immigrant in France trying to make it. They are amongst those songs that make you smile, dance, and then think. In an interview, he talked about the fact that he sings in the French language he learned in the streets, the francarabe (frencharab) he calls it the français café (coffee French) which I never heard before but find very beautiful.
Ruba Shamshoum is a Palestinian musician, born and raised in Nazareth and currently living in Dublin. Her music plays with a combination of Eastern and Arabic elements, improvisation and jazz. She is honey to the ears.
We then have a little interlude taken from the very cool album To Feel Embraced, from Sparkle Division.
Originating from the Nile Valley in what is now South Sudan, Gordon Koang was born blind and began playing music from an early age, busking on the streets of Juba and producing his own self-released CD-R’s and cassettes, before becoming a crowd favourite and recording a series of singles and music videos celebrating South Sudan’s cultural wealth. His music went viral, spreading throughout the country, and Koang was invited to perform at everything from weddings and political rallies to church meetings and parties alike. His reputation quickly grew as the poet and homegrown hero of the Nuer people, sometimes called the « Michael Jackson of South Sudan ».
In 2013, while Koang was performing to expatriate Nuer communities in Australia, renewed conflict broke at home. He made a difficult and heartbreaking decision to not return to Sudan, applying to the Australian government for humanitarian protection. (source)
It is in that context that he released the magnificent album that is Unity from which is taken the song Asylum Seeker you hear today.
After that we enter a very smooth and dancable parenthesis of our playlist with the Orchestre Super Borgou de Parakou from Bénin and the immense Sorry Bamba from Mali. Sometimes I reckon there is no need to say much, everything is in what you hear. Some music seems to make so much sense as what it is you barely need a context or any predisposed taste. How can you not at the very least move your head when you hear Oh Claire? In a way it links with the reflections of C. King about music from Epirus (mentioned in an earlier post) speculating about a purpose of music after observing the fact musicians have a power over their audience, and music does influence mood, behavior. When it comes to the Orchestre and Sorry Bamba, there is no need to think, your body moves and you can simply observe the purpose unfolding regardless of your will. I am convinced aliens would dance.
We continue with the very beautiful Colette by Bembele Henri, who I discovered while researching the compilation I mentioned two weeks ago, Bulawayo Blue Yodel. It is followed by a Filipino song I have literaly zero info about. It is itself is followed by the immense Michael Hurley who probably needs no introduction. As doesn’t John Fahey.
We close with one of the funniest songs I have ever heard but nonetheless very cute Tant pis pour la rime, from Mireille. Too bad if it’s a crime, I don’t care for the rime, she says.
That will be all for today, I see you in two weeks and wish you a pleasant sunday.
If everyone checks out at 10h30 but no one hears them, do they get their deposits back?
The receptionist
Playlist:
1. Duval Timothy - 9
2. Šunđo Sajam - Sevdalinka: U Šeheru Kraj Bistra Vrbasa. Sevdalinka. (Bosnian Urban Song.) In The Town By The Clear Vrbas Stream.
3. Roza Eskenazi - Gazeli Sabach Sti Mavri Yi Chrosto Kormi
4. Mazouni - Je suis seul
5. Ruba Shamshoum - Randomness of Beauty Spots
6. Sparkle Division - You Go Girl!
7. Gordon Koang - Asylum Seeker
8. Orchestre Super Borgou de Parakou - Adiza Claire
9. Sorry Bamba - Porry
10. Bembele Henri - Colette
11. Poor immigrants - Mundo Ng Musika
12. Michael Hurley - The Portland Water
13. John Fahey - What The Sun Said
14. Mireille - Tant pis pour la rime
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