QUILOMBO EM PASADENA, ROCKY REGGAE IN DOWNTOWN L.A.

Sometimes music genres and sub-genres emerge and disappear largely on the basis of the fame of its one or two chief protagonists. If he or they fade away, the genre they largely created doesn’t always survive. ‘Grunge’ is maybe the best example of this. After Kurt Cobain self-destructed, there didn’t seem to be much left to say, nor much of anyone left to say it. Cobain didn’t create the genre, but he certainly defined it. Eddie Vedder was not even a Pac NW’er by origin, and others had their own drug problems, so the genre was without a spiritual leader. Heroin certainly wasn’t cool any more, and after the success of the well-scrubbed Spice Girls, it seemed like a good time to kick out the jams with cute little boy bands. I gave up on reggae for the same reason years ago. Without Bob Marley, and then runner-up Peter Tosh, I figured that was that. Without Bob’s lyrics and leadership, there didn’t seem to be much left but empty baggage and an empire to be divided up amongst the sons, the musical fruit, so to speak. I always liked the island theme, and reggae was the perfectly focused complement to Jimmy Buffett’s all-you-can-eat island style, but after Marley it seemed there was just Rasta, no more reggae.

Somehow it survived all these years, so I’ve been giving it another listen lately. What with all the Marley brothers collectively carrying on Dad’s tradition in good form, and Ziggy acquiring some seniority and well-earned moral leadership (even if Daddy penned half his live set), it seemed worth a try. But what really inspires me is some of the Afro-pop artists, particularly Oliver Mtukudzi, doing a fine job of picking up the original musical spirit of reggae BUT WITHOUT ALL THE RASTA STUFF (if you overstand what I mean). So it was with high hopes that I ventured out to Grand Performances last Friday noon to catch Rocky Dawuni’s act, the so-called ‘Bob Marley of Ghana,’ though I really wasn’t very familiar with his work. My standards for acceptance are not that high really. I’ve even gotten used to the red-gold-and-green chrocheted turbans that hide more hair than a Sikh cabbie in NYC. Just don’t give some some strutting peacock with flying locks spreading pheromones and more dread than his half-baked lyrics. Unfortunately Rocky seemed all that and more, apparently lots of baggage but not much inside, all style and no substance. I left early. If there’s anything worse than a woman trying to pass off her good looks as good music, it’s a man doing the same. Fortunately in the spirit of fairness I decided to check out his MySpace site before completing this paragraph. It’s a good thing. ‘In Ghana’ is a first-rate song and some of the others aren’t bad either. Too bad Obama didn’t use it last week in Accra. This is a warning, Dawuni- tone down the strut (and please don’t name your next album ‘Lion of Zion’- please?). You’ve been warned. Some of us are neither stoned nor hormoned.

“VIVER BRASIL” is something else, though, no substance abuse here. I caught this as a freebie at Levitt Pavilion in Pasadena, though I’m sure it’d be well worth the full fare for the full bill at any of the venues they’ve played over the years around LA while honing the act. Though ‘Ballet Folclorico’ is not a new concept and similar productions have been done based on the traditions of a number of countries around the world, the results are mixed. Such things can be truly inspiring or horribly hokey. Fortunately ‘Viver Brasil’ falls into the former category. The show is essentially the interaction between music and dance, a la Brasileira, the dancers all female and all local, the musicians all males and Brazilian, headed up by co-founder Luiz Badaro’. The themes, for both dance and music, are based on the cultural milieu of Salvador de Bahia, which is to say Afro-Brazilian, colorful and throbbing. The costumes alone are worth the price of admission.

A special treat is the inclusion of native carioca (that means from Rio, not a tribe of voice-over lounge singers) Katia Moraes of LA’s Sambaguru handling vocal chores for the show. This is an excellent place for her to stretch beyond her more typical smooth samba/bossa nova style into something deeper and more aggressive and more tribal. She’s excellent at it of course. The show’s only hokey moments came during the mock-capoeira dance (though real capoeira is not much different), as the two ‘combatants’ competed for applause. That’s okay; chalk it up to the reality TV influence. Capoeira is in its element on the dance floor regardless. I can’t imagine walking through a Sao Paulo slum and every time a fight breaks out the choreography begins. West Side Story would be proud.

I also caught a piece of David Zasloff’s band Thursday night while shopping at the Farmer’s Market and was pleasantly surprised. They rocked, though I’d have probably been at McArthur Park to hear Lili Haydn if I’d known about it. It’s not often you get to hear someone who’s been called the ‘female Jimi Hendrix of the electric violin,’ but they apparently only got their 2009 schedule up on the web within the last week or so. Oh well, maybe they’ll get their act together one day, probably the day of deadline. There’s so much good music in summer in LA, if you snooze you’ll lose. I’d like to be covering San Diego and TJ also, and could too, but LA’s got so much already that it’s hard to get motivated to look around the edges. This week’s no different, starting off with Bobby Matos at Hollywood and Highland on Tuesday, then Malian techno-tribal singer Issa Bagayogo at the Skirball on Thursday, while the West African Highlife Band holds the stage at Levitt Pavilion in McArthur Park. Watcha Clan and Cucu Diamantes will be at Grand Performances downtown Thursday, and Albita will show up Friday. And of course it’s all free. It’s hard to beat that. El Gran Silencio will be in TJ and Amadou & Mariam will open for Coldplay at Cricket Wireless Amphitheatre in San Diego. Get off the Net and out the door.

KATIA MORAES CHARMS, BUT BIG SAM STEALS THE SHOW; TUAREGS TIDAWT THIS FRIDAY IN PASADENA

Like I said before, if you’re a true music aficionado, whether musician, promoter, critic, or mere fanatic, the pay-off is that moment when music just knocks you on your ass. You went in expecting nothing, got blown away, and then left with a wet spot in your mind where something hard and unyielding used to be. That’s just what happened Saturday night at MacArthur Park courtesy of Big Sam’s Funky Nation. I didn’t think it could happen two weeks in a row, after Del Castillo reminded me of why I used to love hanging in Austin. Now Big Sam comes along and makes me want to go back to N’Awlins. I’ve never been such a huge fan of New Orleans music really, Cajun and Zydeco sure, but that ain’t the Big Easy. I’ve been to Mardi Gras, Jazz & Heritage fests, Bourbon Street late-night staggers, and private Meters parties in Manhattan, but I’ve never been more than politely appreciative and thankful, never moved. Saturday night I mean I was literally MOVED, like up out of my seat. I had no choice. If I’d known Big Sam used to be the Dirty Dozen trombonist, that might explain it, but I didn’t know that. Now that I know he usually has a full horn section with him, I want the full Monty, or the full Sam that is, and he’s a big guy. His band are grade-A jazz musicians laying down pure funk, featuring Adam Matazar on organ and Casey Robinson on lead guitar. They’ll be at the Continental Club in south Austin on the 23^rd this month. Don’t miss it. Hey, wait a minute… where am I? What year is this? What identity problem?

The LACMA non-stage was perfect for Katia Moraes of Pure Samba earlier Saturday evening, enabling her to walk right out into the crowd in her frequent exhortations to dance and to love. Her charm is infectious; few would dare refuse. That’s what’s I like about speakers of Romance languages- they’re so romantic. If Dennis Hopper epitomized the northern barbarian outlook in the movie Water World with his line, “Don’t just stand there- kill something!” Ms. Moraes one-ups him with the Romantic counterpart, “Don’t just stand there- kiss something!” Katia Moraes’ is samba almost to the point of bossa nova, sleek and sexy but most of all sensual, fingers interlocking fingers, hands holding hands with Nature and everything else surrounding, including him or her, lost in the moment. And this is a down-to-earth moment, too, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and just one of the guys. But don’t be fooled by her tom-boy casualness. She really is a good looker, and a good singer too. I don’t know how her other band Sambaguru differs from Pure Samba, but I plan to find out. I’ve been to Brazil looking for music like this and only found second-rate rock, passable folk, and novelty acts in a festival presided over by Gilberto Gil. What does that say? It wasn’t Rio…

Friday was also a good day for music. I managed to catch a bit of Chekere’ at MacArthur and also some of Jaipur Kawa at Cal Plaza. Chekere’ is a pretty darn good Latin jazz band featuring Yvette Summers on percussion and vocals and Eric Luis Gonzalez on trumpet. Yvette is quite charismatic and full of thoughts and ideas, something of a self-styled African wonder woman, and insists on talking even though she’s been warned to ‘shut up and play,’ but she was actually spot-on with her comments on African culture, sometimes to my surprise. Gonzalez can certainly wail on the t-horn and the whole band is quite good. Any place besides LA that would be more than enough. Jaipur Kawa is another story. If the mere spectacle of an Indian brass band isn’t enough for you, then the guy balancing a bowling ball off his nose certainly is. I’m only exaggerating a little bit, but the point is that the spectacle overrides the music. The only problem is that it’s really not enough of a spectacle to be a real spectacle. There’s a reason circuses have three rings, and even small ones have lots of people with lots of things going on. Any less than that and I’m thinking ‘tourist schtick.’ I expected the guy to charm a snake out of his pants at any moment. Still these guys are fun if only ‘India lite.’ It’s cheaper than a flight to Delhi.

I’ve never been a huge fan of Irish music either, though always respectful mind you, and definitely a bit skeptical about so-called ‘Celtic’ music, soaring and wailing, mystical and magical, with overtones of Lindisfarne and undercurrents of little people. But you can’t beat traditional Irish music for drinking in a pub and getting happy with your friends. Okay, so MacArthur Park is not exactly Kilkenny, but you can still have fun with it. That’s the kind of music Ken O’Malley and his Twilight Lords played Thursday, along with some other folksy songs by fellow sympathizers such as Van Morrison and Townes Van Zandt. Sounds good to me.

Irish music and culture have affinities with the Mexican, however bizarre that may seem at first glance. They both come by circuitous routes before meeting in Catholic churches and a sentimental attachment to homeland. Ireland is the last stand of Gaelic- i.e. Gallic, Galatian- culture after a centuries-long migration from that uncertain Indo-European heartland through Central Europe, France, and England. One strand even got lost in Anatolia, which is only known because it’s Biblical. Mexican culture of course begins from that uncertain Asian heartland (possibly the same as the Indo-European) and winds its way through the Americas before finding itself ‘down there,’ then mixing it up with European Spaniards coming the other way. One strand even found itself in Texas where it mixed culturally with not-so-long-ago German immigrants who taught them the polka and gave them the accordion. Thus a new genre of ‘Mexican’ music was born in exile. That’s the music Juan Manuel Barco’s Tejano conjunto played Wednesday night, complete with narrative and history. These guys may not have full professional chops and stage presence yet, but they’ve got lots of heart. There’s plenty of time for the other. They’re only in their sixties. Dreams die hard.

It’s another good week for world music coming up. First there’s Pistolera at the Mac on Wednesday playing their own unique brand of Mexican ‘alt-folklorico’ the way women would do it if they could. They can. I saw these ladies at Webster Hall NY earlier this year amidst the cluster-funk of GlobalFest, and they rock out. Rangoli will follow them with Indian dance on Thursday and then CHANA with electronic musica Latina on Friday. Then there’s Tuareg bluesmen Tidawt out at Levitt in Pasadena on Friday, playing the kind of music that Tinariwen brought to the forefront last year. Argentinians Los Pinguos follow them on Saturday. Luis Conte Cuba is at H&H tonight Tuesday and Chuchito Valdes is at LACMA on Saturday. Lal Meri does East Indian trip-hop at Cal Plaza at noon Friday. How can you get to six or eight shows in only four days? Practice.