NATIVE SPIRIT FESTIVAL- Beliefs Are for Sale, the Inca Returns, and a Local Dine’ Girl Shows Her Stuff

If combination is the essence of creativity, then it’s also key to enjoyment of it, the more incongruous the better. It’s interesting to see a ‘Native’ event in London, not exactly a crossroads of ‘native’ activity (except for a few homeless Druids). In this case the ‘native’ in question are the world’s native peoples, with the accent on Native American, both North and South American, thus making the Native Spirit Film Festival an effectively bilingual English/Spanish language event. That is not surprising, considering that it is heavily supported, if not outright presented, by Tumi UK, which is primarily a world music company. This was not a musical event, though, and if there was a focus, then it was political. The event is also affiliated with Amnesty International.

Unfortunately I didn’t arrive until the next-to-last day of the festival, so I missed much of it. But there were films about Maoris and Endoros, Igorots and Saamis, Inuits and Evenkis, and that’s just the NON-Native American groups represented. The Native American groups shown ran the gamut from Mapuche Chileno to Bolivian Aymara to Peruvian Q’ero to Brazilian Karaja’ to Mexican Zapotec and Yaqui to American Dine’, Cree, Ojibwe and Shoshone. Most of these are documentaries, frequently by people outside the tribal groups themselves, though always sympathetic. They typically detail the struggles to adjust and adapt, sometimes in unwilling submission, oftentimes in defiant resistance. In all cases the results are similar, culture clash. Other prominent themes detail the efforts to retain and revive dying traditions, often in death throes after only a few generations of clash with the dominant European culture.

A notable exception to the documentary objective treatment of natives and their struggle was a narrative reenactment of a historical episode, “In the Footsteps of Yellow Woman” by Camille Manybeads Tso, a 14-year-old Dine’ (Navajo) girl in Flagstaff, Arizona. Started as a class project, the twenty-seven minute narrative is a semi-autobiographical piece that documents a young Dine’ woman’s struggle to survive during the Long Walk in the 1860’s from Arizona to New Mexico, as told from the point-of-view of the filmmaker’s great- great- great- great­- grandmother. In other words Yellow Woman’s great-granddaughter is recounting the story told by her great-grandmother to her own granddaughter (or something like that; I lost count of the ‘greats’). This was a hard time for the home team and many died along the way, while a few brave souls hid out and survived clandestinely in Arizona.

It’s still a hard time for many on the ‘rez’ and in town and this is the other story, that of a new generation coming up with one hand being dealt to them, another being theirs to play. Camille plays hers skillfully, writing and directing a story that needs to be told. Whatever it lacks in professional chops, it more than makes up for with teen spirit. The chops will evolve with time. This story is not to be confused with the Keresan Yellow Woman story of Laguna Pueblo by Leslie Marmon Silko, though it may indeed ‘follow in the footsteps’ of it and her success. This one’s even got a killer soundtrack, including songs by Radmilla Cody and Blackfire.

One of the best films was “Q’ero: In Search of the Last Incas” by Zadoc Nava and produced by Tumi UK’s founder Mo Fini. Though listed as a 2008 film, apparently it was actually made in 1993 and details the search for- and revelations of- this remote group of Quechua-speaking natives. It seems that since then much has changed and ‘Q’ero Tours’ are now standard tourist fare, with all the good and bad that that entails. But of the films I saw my favorite was probably ‘Spirits for Sale’ by Folke Johansson, documenting the use of ‘Native American wisdom’… by non-Natives for non-Natives. This is a touchy subject, and even touchier after the sweat-lodge deaths in Sedona, AZ a few weeks ago, but you can’t help but get a little chuckle from watching sweat-lodges being erected in Scandinavia while their own Lapp/Saami populations are as marginalized and ignored as natives ever were and are in America. ‘Sauna’ is a Saami word and its original use and intent is almost exactly the same as that of Native Americans (hint hint). Aside from any religious implications, it doesn’t take a modern genius to realize that many bacteria and viruses are not going to survive the heat of saunas, or fever. The irony of course is that at the same time they’re being marginalized, natives are still being exploited and even glorified en absentia. The other side of the coin is that non-Natives are an important part of many native communities and vice-versa, and progressive peoples on both sides can easily see beyond false divisions and false inclusions. Nietzsche of course said that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but then he said a lot of stuff.

Native Spirit Festival was NOT an academic event, and that might be the festival’s weak point, the fact that some dubious science was presented, only lightly supported by evidence, e.g. the claim that Native Americans numbered some 120 million souls at the time of conquest, a number much larger than any evidence can really support, “compared to only 80 million Europeans,” as if reproductive success carried the same weight for cultural evolution as it does for biological. Another speaker claimed that Aymara culture was the base for Inca culture, news to me, probably them, too, not to mention that Evo’s election to the Bolivian presidency signals a “return of the Inca(s), as foretold in prophecy.” But this is a ‘Native Spirit’ festival, not ‘native science,’ so not a biggie. The spirit was good. Certainly there’s always a bit of ‘wannabe’ attitude in anything like this, whether it’s ‘wannabe’ Indian, or Spanish-speaker, or Aboriginal, or filmmaker, or primitive or intellectual or journalist or whatever, but that’s given; otherwise none of us would be there.

The only real problem with the Native Spirit Festival that I can see is that it needs more publicity… and attendees. I only knew about it because they sent an advert to to my e-mail inbox, and for a town the size of London, you should be able to expect more than a couple hundred viewers. I don’t think it even made the daily Metro ‘zine. To be sure these are not Holly-docs with a crew of dozens flying in and setting up camp and catering for a cast of hundreds… but that’s the beauty of it. Many of the people involved would not let even a Nat Geo crew come in and have their way… then leave. These are films made by people intimately involved with their subjects. Show ‘em some love. Irony is cool and juxtaposition sublime, but love is what makes the old heart tick.

TOTO LA MOMPOSINA’s “La Bodega”- the Missing Link?

I’ve always wondered at the musical concept “Afro-Latino,” usually expressed as “Afro-Cuban” with no ensuing explanation, as though the meaning were obvious, even though there is little or no documentation of this. Presumably the existence of a full range of drums and percussions indicates an African origin to most ‘Latino’ music, the hows and whys and wherefors interpolated to fill in the gaps. They may very well be right, of course, but almost no weight is given to Native traditions, which also have strong drumming traditions. Just because few indigenous people are left, at least with their original disease-susceptible DNA, does not mean that they didn’t play an important role in the early mix of cultures, nor that they didn’t survive in a more vigorous hybrid with imported Africans, a fact which IS documented, though the extent of it subject to speculation. Cuba is NOT majority African, and is in fact one of the least African of Caribbean islands, most of which tend toward reggae, or even gospel (yep) in their musical tastes. Go figure.

As Toto herself would say on her new album “La Bodega,” these are “Cosas pa’ pensar” (‘things to think about’). Of course history is purely academic, but identity is not. Much of what we enjoy comes from the meaning and identity it has for us, whether punk or hiphop or salsa or rock or classical. Toto ‘La Momposina’ offers an interesting glimpse into the history of Latino music, hers being an archaic style which has generally been superseded by more modern forms for modern listeners. Thus it offers an interesting glimpse into the past. Toto acknowledges Native contributions up-front, also, and though Colombia was hardly the locus of the ‘high’ Quechua-speaking cultures of the Andes, it was a mix-and-mingle area for those and the locally advanced Chibcha and the Caribbean island cultures and even an Amazonian culture which has yet to be well documented. Colombia’s choppy terrain and diverse regions has allowed much of those cultures to survive in one form or another.

The original musical format is flute and drum as in song #2 ‘Margarita’ and grows in complexity from that starting point. In Toto’s case that means brass, and Toto uses much of that. The album leads off with it on “Manita Uribe” and never strays far. Guitars have no place here, not as a lead instrument anyway. Toto loves traditions and stays close to them. She also loves her country, too, a common theme throughout her work, as in the third song “Sueno Espanol” (‘Spanish Dream’), “Soy Latinamericana… de mi tierra no me voy olvidar,” (‘I’m a Latina; I won’t forget my land’). In “Yo Me Llamo Cumbia” (‘My Name Is Cumbia’) the theme gets extrapolated into a hierarchy of belonging, the local cumbia acting in the role of first person- “soy la cumbia, soy Colombiana… soy Barranquillera… soy de aqui, donde naci’” (‘I’m cumbia, I’m Colombian… I’m from Barranquilla… I’m from here, where I was born’).

She loves her times as much as her place, the old times and traditions, wasting no words about her feelings for those who have usurped them. “Recuerda los Tiempos viejos… cosas van cambiando…no hay tierra para cultivar… no hay tobacco ni para fumar… la riqueza se han llevado” (‘remember the old days… things now changing… no land to cultivate… not even tobacco to smoke… the wealth has all been carried off’) she sings in ‘Cosas pa’ Pensar’. But beyond the time and the place and the right or the wrong there is an air of unreality to it all, or rather the magical reality of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, also native to the area, she singing about “jardines de mis Amores” (‘gardens of my loves’) in ‘Duena de los Jardines’ (‘owner of the gardens’), which sounds like a title right out of his oeuvre.

Like vallenato, another archaic Colombian style, Toto’s songs don’t even sound like they should be coming through microphones and speakers, much less iPods and laptops. You should be listening in the evening’s first cool breeze in a hot sultry jungle town, sitting on the porch and sipping a drink while the band plays and the lights come on one by one around town. This is music that carries its world with it, setting up camp and staying a while, until its time to move on. It WOULD be nice to see what some big-city producers and mixers would do with the raw material, though, but I guess we’ll have to wait for that. That’s “La Bodega” by Toto La Momposina. Check it out.

MUMIY TROLL’s “Paradise Ahead”- New EP, Live in SD

If you were a Russian, what would you do after seventy years of stifling Communist domination? Probably the same thing you’d do if you were a western European after fifteen hundred years of Catholic domination, you’d go a little bit crazy. That’s only natural. Still it’s nice to know that the sworn enemy we were once facing down and squaring off with in a little game called ‘Mutually Assured Destruction’ are in fact not only nice people, but… know how to party. The challenge is to channel all that newly unleashed energy into something creative… like Mumiy Troll. Now if you’re thinking that this is Gogol Bordello II, well… not exactly. These guys party, but not exactly like that. Whereas Gogol Bordello is essentially an act, an updated ‘village people’ if you will, this is legitimate rock-and-roll (Gogol B’s Eugene Hutz is a good actor btw; check out ‘Everything is Illuminated’). Eugene will get over his bitterness at not heading up a Putumayo ‘Russian Wedding Album.’ That’s a joke, and if you don’t ‘get it,’ then read his MySpace rant.

Mumiy Troll is the real thing, though, good ol’ fashioned R&R, Russian style. Appropriately enough, they’re from Vladivostok, surrounded on one side by China and the other side by… a view of Sarah Palin’s house, maybe? They’ve worked the clubs, too, not unusual at all to see their flyers decorating the light posts all over East Europe, especially in the CIS, where everybody still speaks Russian. Now, after years of working the old Warsaw Pact, they’re ready to take on the States, and they’ve got a new English-language EP to facilitate it. It’s called ‘Paradise Ahead’ and is full of their trademark eccentric rock. Beyond the silliness, though, lies some good story-telling and imagery, much of it documenting the hilarious horror of the Cold War, at least in metaphor if not in fact. The song ‘Nuclear Station’ is a good example of this, a metaphor for millenial love and romance- “It’s a whole new sensation, in our nuclear station. Only I know the secret to melt two hearts… chain reaction.”

Remember the Russian submarine incident? Listen to ‘Smog,’ i.e. smoke, “cold and dark underwater, I’m feeling drunk, it’s getting hotter… once more chance to kiss my sweet baby daughter.” They can also get semi-philosophical, as in ‘Mothers and Daughters’ about the futility of war and human plans in general- “go through this world in peace, where oceans rage and roar, lighting darkness with our dreams, we still can’t see the shore.” And of course sometimes they can be just plain silly, as in ‘Polar Bear’-“… you polar bear, me Eskimo.” The title song probably sums it up best- “you gotta’ like it… this planet is fun, yeah.”

The live show is even better. I saw them do a one-hour set last night at The Casbah in San Diego and it was… f***ing great. They opened with ‘Nuclear Station’ alternating in Russian and English, and took it from there. Most of the set, in fact, was in Russian, and if that seems strange, you have to consider that the entire Russian ex-pat community (under 40) was probably there. How do I know that? Did I check ID’s? No, but the fact that the audience could sing along to nearly every song was a clue, that and the fact that they presented the band with flowers. That’s not normal. There were plenty of blondes and their green-card husbands in the crowd, too, some with word bubbles over their heads reading, “What the fu…” Real live Russian girls! How often do you get that at your local club?

Frontman Ilya Lagutenko, in addition to being a good vocalist, is a natural-born showman, though more of the cutesy cuddly silly kind than one of Gogol’s dead souls re-born (imagine Dana carvey fronting a band). The band is no-nonsense, though, kicking ass at speeds sometimes approaching warp. I was afraid someone might lose it (his mind, that is). It was impossible to sit still, and surveillance footage showed that even Hardie K’s feet both left the floor simultaneously more than once, and that doesn’t happen every day, I’m tellin’ you, son… Alas, it all ended too soon, and without an encore, boo hoo. I intended to stay up and watch them on Craig Ferguson for that, but… you know, zzzzzz…… Forget the PR rap about the ‘Russian Rolling Stones.’ I’d say… maybe… Talking Heads? Check ‘em out.

CESARIA EVORA- The ‘Barefoot Diva’ Returns with “NHA SENTIMENTO”

One thing nice about world music is that it not only respects its cultures, but it respects its elders… AND its women. While pop and country tend to ditch their forebears once they’ve passed their reproductive prime, world music’s leading songstresses just get older and wiser. If you need proof, just look at Omara Portuondo, Cesaria Evora, and Toto la Momposina (hint hint: my previous present and future blogs). You’d think that after a stroke and pushing seventy, Cesaria would be slowing down, but no… not yet anyway. Her new album “Nha Sentimento” (“My Feeling”) not only lives up to the standards of her previous work, but takes it in important new directions. At the core, though, as always, is that voice, that voice that goes down like the cognac a younger Cesaria so loved to drink, rich and smooth and deep with emotion.

Emotion lives at the heart of all Cesaria’s music, whether old or new, and it doesn’t matter whether you call it mornas or ‘Verdean blues’, it obviously shares affinities with Portuguese fado, both in style and content. There’s always that longing and nostalgia for something, not something other, but something familiar, usually the past, youth, a romanticized era that may or may not have ever existed. For it is not a longing meant to be fulfilled, but a longing that is a way of life, as if our expanding universe allowed us only to look back from where we came, never to where we are going. It’s cozier that way. Personally I prefer Cesaria’s style over the sometimes over-dramatic fado, more like a ‘folksy fado.’

For this album, in addition to local musicians Cesaria includes tracks recorded in Cairo with Egyptian conductor Fathy Salama and the Cairo Orchestra. But don’t start thinking that she’s ‘gone Arab.’ If anything, she’s ‘gotten slick,’ with a background instrumentation lusher than what we’ve come to expect, most typically an interplay between guitar and drum, with occasional strings and brass. This album has that, too, but also adds Arab instruments like the Egyptian zither and flute, prominent on the title track ‘Sentimento.’ In fact if this album evokes a nationality foreign to her, it would be Italy, thanks to the Italian-style accordion of Henry Ortiz that weaves in and out on the song ‘Ligereza.’ It becomes her, adding another dimension to what is essentially a southern European style to begin with, despite the African connections, and balancing out with new ‘folksiness’ a sound that is tending toward light jazz.

If the album starts out a bit meandering with the aptly-titled ‘Serpentina’ it quickly gets right back on track with ‘Verde Cabo di Nhas Odjos’ (‘Green Cape of My Eyes’) obviously a play on Cape/Cabo Verde’s name and an invocation of ‘greenness’ as a symbol of hope, ‘verde vida, verde sonho… verde verde manha’ (‘green the life, green the dream… a green green tomorrow’), and when coupled with ‘Esperanca di Mar Azul’ (‘Hope of the Blue Sea’) becomes a one-two punch of synesthesia, color evoking emotion and vice versa, establishing hope as a positive counterweight to the more prevalent melancholy. Chanting ‘vento di norte, vento di sul’ (‘northern winds, southern winds’) Nature’s malleability thus offers much of the reason for that hope. The third song ‘Vento de Sueste’ (‘The Southeasterly Wind’) continues right in that vein, lilting sad and nostalgic- ‘innocencia foi grande… curacao fica isolado’, (‘my innocence was great… my heart remains isolated/an island’), a nice play on words. ‘Ligereza’ bats clean-up and by now we’re firmly on Cesaria’s turf- ‘amor ta va, amor ta vem’ (‘love comes and goes’), unrepentantly philosophical.

From there on it’s all downhill and down to business. If the album flirts a bit with almost-too-slick over-production at first, ‘Zinha’ shifts gears into some nice brassy no-nonsense up-tempo Latin jazz, to be taken up again on ‘Tchom Frio’ and ‘Holandesa co Certeza’, interspersed with Cesaria’s more typical ballads. Last but not least is ‘Parceria e Irmandade’ (‘Partnership and Brotherhood’), apparently a throwaway track that barely made the lineup, but for my money maybe the best track on the whole album, both philosophical AND up-tempo, haunting and beautiful and carrying an important message, i.e. that closeness among family and friends is not only more important than wealth, but is also a source of it. Maybe a bit angry and even more determined, this stands in contrast to much of the more passive content of many of her other songs, and seems to sum up much of what Cesaria’s life has been all about, overcoming poverty with dignity. I can’t get it out of my head. I hope it’s not her swan song.

There are enough similarities to other Portuguese-language music here to make a Chomskyite go running back to his textbooks, but there are many other things that are just Cesaria, unique and inimitable. That’s “Nha Sentimento.” Check it out.

OMARA PORTUONDO SERENADES CALIFORNIA, BAJA Y ALTA TAMBIEN

It’s always nice to pick up some quality music while traveling, but the timing seldom works out unless I’ve actually planned it that way, and even then… suffice it to say that some people’s big festive ideas for big ideal festivals don’t always work out. The Crossroads moveable fest in southern Africa a couple months ago was good, if small and a bit provincial. The Sauti Za Busara fest in Zanzibar in February should be much better, while covering some of the same East Africa musical turf. It’s good, and a bit different from the West, from whence most of the African genre of ‘world music’ derives, more of a reggae feel, as opposed to the Latino (Cuban-Africaine?) feel in the West. I’m looking forward to it. Then there’s the legendary Festival du Desert in Timbuktu and its sister fests in Segou and elsewhere in Mali, but lately they’ve been looking a little more generic than originally, almost like WOMAD Sahara, but that’s probably mostly because so many Malians are successful outside their home country.

Individual shows are harder to come across, and you’ve got to be an avid signpost reader to make that happen, or a lucky MySpace peruser/pursuer. Still it can happen. This year alone I’ve caught Oliver Mtukudzi in Addis Ababa and Ba Cissoko in Marseilles, while missing (only by inches) Lura in Wroclaw and Tinariwen in Paris and Rachid Taha in selfsame Marseilles. Okay, so I missed them, big deal, but at least I KNOW that I missed them. Of course the magic can occur closer to home also, like catching Omara Portuondo last week in Tijuana. In addition to its own great classical sounds, Buena Vista Social Club accomplished nothing so much as a feeling of great loss at the ‘missing generation’- or two- of the hemisphere’s greatest popular music (after the US). Fortunately it also released a handful of aging musicians for one last go-round on the world stage, one larger than they ever had before. Omara Portuondo is one of those. Fortunately Cuba has excellent health care, the pride of the Caribbean, and Omara Portuondo looks as radiant as she ever did in her youth. If the feet and hips have slowed down a bit, the upper body sways with the rhythm as smoothly as ever, not bad for a woman pushing eighty fast.

And what a rhythm it is! It’s as smooth as… the cheap imported rayon that passes for silk these days in Cuba (but the health care’s good!). Led by guitarist and musical director Swami Jr., Omara went through her entire new album Gracias song by song, note by note. How’s that for a Communistic approach to a concert? But while the songs and notes may have been weighed and measured to original specs, the emotion was real that came from ‘la novia del filin,’ featuring such chestnuts as ‘O Que Sera’ (What Will Be), ‘Amame Como Soy’ (Love Me as I Am), Adios Felicidad (Bye-bye Happiness), and the title song of course- Quiero agradecer a quien corresponda… no quiero guardarme lo que siento… (I just want to thank whoever it concerns… I don’t want to keep these feelings inside…). And for the encore, can you guess? Guantanamera, of course, guajira Guantanamera if that helps you distinguish it from the notorious torture chamber that passes for a US army base, funded by US taxpayers and located on Cuban soil, in case you didn’t know. I’d be willing to bet quite a few don’t, but that’s the region where the best Cuban music originates, and not coincidentally only a stone’s throw from Haiti.

Given a previous song in praise of Che and her striking resemblance to a terrorist’s grandmother, it’s amazing she can even get a visa to sing in the US, but she still can… sometimes. On Oct. 20 she’ll be at the San Francisco Palace of Fine Arts and Oct. 23 in Royce Hall at UCLA, so I guess the visa came through. I hope she’s not sitting in TJ waiting for it, though I thought I saw a woman at the Calimax with a basket of fruit on her head… Angelenos are so lucky, the best music in the world right there on the doorstep, offering itself up for little or nothing, so anxious are so many musicians to carve out their little niche in the Fantasy Factory for subsequent export. Hey, there’s got to be something the Chinese will buy… if only we could teach them Engrish ranguage. They kicked the big O a century ago… R&R wars anyone?

It’ll take Cuba longer. For all the glossy six-color tourist rap, downtown Havana ain’t pretty. But Omara is, and with a voice like a songbird in the morning. Hopefully the tourists will be crossing the Straits soon, and not just to Varadero’s sometimes-sunny beaches. And hopefully the new generation of musicians will get caught up before the ketchup. But it’s not yet, because Omara still hasn’t gotten a visa for the Grammys in Vegas next month. Of course if I’d known she’d be in LA… but naah, CECUT in TJ has a Cubanosofia cultural series going all month, worth checking out. The revolution started in DF, after all. I wonder where it’ll end?

Slide to FreedomII: Make a Better World- "Dobro means good in any language."

That’s an old motto of the Dobro Manufacturing Corporation- for any of you non-industry people less than 100 years old- the word ‘dobro’ itself a trade name, now property of the Gibson Guitar Corporation, which intends to vigorously defend its exclusive rights to the name btw. So sue me. If you’ve ever spent time in a Slavic country you might be excused for imagining that they’re a race of resonance-guitar lovers, but no, in fact the word DOES mean ‘good’ in nearly all of them, so you hear it frequently. I used to jokingly refer to this for my dobro-playing younger brother without even knowing that the Slovakian-born DOpyera BROthers indeed had this also partly in mind when they named their new company. The rest is history, but only part of it.

The intimate connection between blues-based slide guitar and country-based dobro doesn’t get talked about very much, much less expounded upon, but the connections are there, and it’s more than just the ‘tude. It’s the tunes. At the same time that the Dopyera Bros. and the National String Instrument Corp. were trading secrets, designs, and patents in factories and courts and board-rooms, Blind Willie McTell, Son House, Robert Johnson, and others were doing something a little bit different with their guitars in the Mississippi delta. All of them had probably played with the ‘diddley bow’ (as in ‘Bo Diddley’) as children, a one-string toy instrument eerily reminiscent of some one-string African designs, played with a glass or metal slide…

The connection with Hawaiian slack-key style slide guitar is more remote, though, and India’s slide tradition hardly even known… until recently. Canadian slide guitar and Dobro master Doug Cox knows them all… and loves them… and can play most of them. But on this album he had to dig deeper into the corners to get just the sound he was looking for… on his gadgie, a resonance guitar even more obscure than a Dobro™ (satisfied now, Gibson?). “Slide to Freedom II: Make a Better World” is his latest collaboration with Indian sitarist and veena player Salil Bhatt, son of the master Vishwa Mohan Bhatt.

One of the nice things about ‘world music’ is that because of the plethora of regions and cultures represented, there are no sharp divisions between classes, simply because they no longer have much meaning outside the local context. And I don’t mean social classes as much as I mean classes of anything. Everything’s connected. This is a good thing. Best of all you can be a nerd intellectual and still be cool, or you can be urban and still be country, or you can live simultaneously in about three different countries signing your e-mails with your current GPS co-ordinates (or maybe that’s just me). So you’re in a funny mood tonight and can’t decide whether you’d like to listen to some classical Indian music or some down-home folk blues? With the album ‘Slide to Freedom II: Make a Better World’ you can do both, where various versions of Indian slides on strings intermix effortlessly with their American counterparts.

The album leads off with the title song “Make a Better World” by Earl King and that pretty much sets the redemptive tone for the album- “sing sing sing… join hands, do yo’ thing, make a better world to live in,” or at least about half of it anyway. In some act of cosmic symmetry, whether accidental or intentional, the album is pretty much divided between modern covers and classical-Indian-inspired instrumentals. I personally probably reached my ‘Amazing Grace’ saturation point long ago, but I can always get up for one more, and the one here is a nice to-the-nailhead-point version. And it’s always nice to hear someone cover the late great George Harrison- another Shankar disciple, along with Salil Bhatt’s father- in this case ‘For You Blue.’ But the real chestnut of a cover song is ‘I Scare Myself’ by Dan Hicks. When’s the last time you heard someone cover that? They nail it, too, its spookiness only augmented with eerie gospel vocals.

A special note needs to be said about the accompaniment to the major collaborators Salil and Cox. Salil’s father and mentor Vishwa delivers a stinging almost ungodly solo on ‘For You Blue’- as though some buddy still had another lick to lay down- and Ramkumar Mishra maintains a tabla rhythm throughout the album without which it would not have been the same, nor nearly so successful. But the real revelation is New Orleans blues and gospel singer John Boutte’. After listening several times to the album without carefully perusing the notes and credits beforehand, I kept thinking, “Who is that ballsy blues mama doing the vocals?” Well ballsy indeed, imagine my surprise at seeing John Boutte’s name- and face. Little surprises like that are magical, like imagining that maybe Michael Jackson’s soul divided around 1990 and the sane half went to New Orleans and became a kick-ass blues-and-gospel singer, while the other half… you know. Tenors are not that rare, but for a blues and gospel singer? As with the tabla-based rhythm, it is excellent and serves to help define the album.

The album’s other half is pretty much straight-ahead Indian string-based instrumental, heavy on the slide, which, according to Salil Bhatt, has always been an element of its use. Thus “A Letter Home,” “Blessings,” and “The Moods of Madhuva” all allow your mind to wander while simultaneously blowing it, as you meditate on origins and endings and the ways and means to it all. The beauty is that- as Doug Cox put it- you really don’t know who’s doing what all the time, the parts fit so seamlessly together. Albums like this are more than just happy accidents and brilliant mistakes. There is purpose and vision behind it. As Cox himself says: “…the future of traditional music really lies in the coming together of cultures. Folk music until now came from isolated cultures developing their own unique style of music. That’s not going to happen anymore.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself. The album ends with “Freedom Raga” by Cox, which sets the still-yearning closing tone for the album, “I touch freedom, I smell freedom…” as if by simple affirmation we could correct all the slights and injustices that have ever been perpetrated in the history of the world. Would that it were that easy… Listening to “Slide to Freedom II- Make a Better World” is easy. Check it out.

'IMIDIWAN: COMPANIONS' by TINARIWEN- the Desert Bears Fruit

Mali’s Tinariwen is one of only a handful of artists in the history of modern alternative popular music- The Beatles, Stones, Bowie and Elvis in the UK; Dylan, the Dead, Springsteen and Patti Smith in the US, Marley in Jamaica, Manu Chao in Europe, Carabao in Thailand, Mana’ in Mexico, and maybe… maybe… Cheb Khaled in Algeria- that is/was truly larger than life, whose reputation precedes them, that the term ‘classic’ becomes affixed to without hesitation. Of course first they must make it past the bewitching age of twenty-seven without self-destructing or fading away into uselessness, but most of all these are all bands or artists that mean something. There is something more important than album sales going on in each of these cases- politically, socially, and artistically- though the musicianship is never in question for any of them.

Of course as a band already well into middle age Tinariwen hardly has the oeuvre that the other artists had at a much earlier age, but then much of their best work probably still lies ahead. How many of the others can say the same? I bet they’ve got some of the best stories. And if life growing up in the desert seems like a curse, consider that they’ve also been very lucky coming from one of only a handful of places- besides Mali, maybe only Cuba, New Orleans, and where else?- that is truly musically magical. Thus when the Festival du Desert in Timbuktu was first getting off the ground less than a short ten years ago, you had the likes of Ali Farka Toure’, Oumou Sangare’, Justin Adams, and Robert Plant… yes that Robert Plant, there as participants and witnesses to something extraordinary about to take place, the unification of Mali by music, something still only tentative politically.

When I first became aware of Tinariwen only three short years ago, they were my big discovery of the year. Out of some 100+ CD’s that I gathered as part of my birthright as a first-time paying member of the World Music trade conference WOMEX, a short 3-song sampler by Tinariwen was my favorite. I turned other non-industry people on to it. Little did I know then of their preceding legend, guns and guitars and revolutions and revelations and all that, even less that they were about to break BIG, or big by world music standards anyway. Within a year they were opening for the Stones and touring small clubs in the US non-stop. Then I found out that not only had they already played the Festival International in Lafayette, LA, but they’d played for coffee at NAU in my own adopted home town of Flagstaff, AZ, courtesy of Blackfire’s Benally family, they themselves also veterans of two Festivals du Desert. I still have black-and-blue marks from my self-inflicted back kicks over that one.

Fast forward to the present and Tinariwen is past the heady days of their triumphant international debut and ready to prove their staying power. To take twenty years to produce an album or two is one thing. Can they do it every year or two? If their new album is any indication, I suspect they can. Imidiwan (‘Companions’) shows no signs of the slowing down, toning down, self-conscious caution, or the- God forbid- cover album that frequently afflicts a red-hot band’s senior thesis. Too often a real ‘thriller’ gets followed by something ‘bad.’ And they now have to contend with many imitators and band-wagoneers, too. Anybody can do their version of ‘desert blues,’ but there’s more to it than that. Many bands play ‘Afro-Beat’ also, but how many can sound like Fela? It’s the same with Tinariwen. If they were a one-trick pony, they’d have washed up on the sand long ago. Imidiwan shows the full range of their repertoire.

In my lifetime, most of the albums I’ve listened to I’ve only heard once, and maybe half that many again only twice. Though I listen more than that to any album I review, I probably listened to Imidiwan five times… in rapid succession. That’s the highest compliment I can pay any album. They’ve still got the magic. The opening song ‘Imidiwan Afrik Temdam’ is classic Tinariwen, meditative and reflective as the desert wind, and the second song ‘Lulla’ follows in the same vein, adding those soothing female background vocals that balance the sometimes-raw Tinariwen sound so nicely. ‘Tenhert’ is a rap-and-boogie-woogie number and ‘Enseqi Ehad Didagh’ a slow earthy blues. ‘Tahult In’ follows in the boogie vein, which is a pleasant evolution to the Tinariwen repertoire, an enhanced down-to-earth melodical feel. In general, the album maybe veers a bit toward Ali Farka’s earthiness, and away from raw desert edginess. Chabiba sounds so much like an American folk lament that I halfway expected to hear Townes Van Zandt join in on a verse. Maybe success is mellowing Tinariwen out… or maybe not. Maybe it’s rounding them out. The closing song ‘Desert Wind’ is a five minute instrumental that needs no DJ remix version to define its sense of space. The space is infinite. That’s Imidiwan by Tinariwen. The desert just got less lonely. Check it out.

“AGUA DEL POZO” by ALEX CUBA- More Pop, Hold the Salsa

He may wear an Afro and he may be Cuban, but Alex (Puentes) Cuba is definitely not Afro-Cuban, at least not his music… well, not much anyway. This is pure Latino-pop, Cuban style, gone north to British Columbia, Canada, for special seasoning. Latin music hasn’t seen pop hooks like this since Gloria Estefan or Ricky (who?) Martin, Shakira notwithstanding- or maybe notwithshaking, her own considerable hips. His lyricism, his romanticism, his optimism- and his pure pop hooks- are all imminently notable. Nelly Furtado took note, and booked him as a collaborator on her new Spanish-language album Mi Plan, title song cowritten with- you guessed it- Alex Cuba. Mae Furtado didn’t raise a fool for a daughter; this is a good career move for Nelly, deflecting anxieties over how to follow her previous smash hit album while moving on to that lucrative Shakira turf as an extension of her own more-adult-than-Britney-but-still-sexy-as-Hell middle ground. Don’t underestimate Canadian loyalty in her nurturing of Alex either. They’re both immigrants.

It’s obviously a good move for Alex Cuba, too. The man has got some commercial instincts, in addition to his considerable musical talents. The middle ground is obviously where mass popularity lives, by definition, and that’s the turf he claims on this album. It’s seems to be a shift he’s comfortable with also, away from strict Afro-Cuban music toward ballads and boleros and trova and… silly love songs. The first song on the album ‘Amor Infinito’ makes clear the intent- amor infinito… que siento contigo... que habla de mis sentimientos (‘the infinite love… that I feel with you… that speaks of my sentiments’) and weaves its way through the entire album.

Alex hasn’t left his Afro-Cuban roots totally behind, though, certainly not in the two songs co-written with his twin brother and sometime collaborator Adonis, the title song and Vampiro. Thought maybe 'Agua del Pozo' (‘Water from the Well’) would be reflective and existential or maybe something deep and meditative as if coming from the Dalai (‘deep sea’) Lama himself? Think again. It concerns itself with the usual Afro-Cuban obsessions of moving and shaking, butts not politics, ‘me gusta como te mueves… sacando el agua del pozo’ (‘I like the way you move it, taking water from the well’). So much for deep thought, but it DOES feature hot Santana-like guitar licks.

‘Vampiro’, with the help of some brassy riffs, flirts with the dark side a bit- esta noche quiero estar contigo, amarnos escondidos… ser vampiro de tu amor (‘Tonight I want to be with you, hidden away loving each other… being the vampire of your love’)- but not much. Most of Cuba’s lyrics are playful and dreamy- almost childishly optimistic and naïve- and affirm that ‘happy ending’ faith with little but symbolic intervention, like the dreamy light pop of ‘Pide Un Deseo’ (Make a Wish)- porque una estrella cae, porque puse mi arma en el cielo de vencer ella (‘because a star falls, because I shot it down just to get her’).

Even when Cuba tries to get mysterious and metaphysical as in ‘Fiesta de Religion’ his optimism and light smooth jazzy touches hardly miss a lick, talking about ‘donde se hablan los verdades’ (‘where the truths are spoken’), more credit than a lot of people would give religion, even Santeria. Ever the romantic, his faith lies more typically in love, as in the closing song “De Manera Que,” dame un poco de tu fe…hazlo de manera que… siento que no cambian los anos que hice mi amor (give me a little of your faith… so that… I don’t feel that the years are passing while I love you”).

About the only thing ‘wrong’ with the album is that it’s maybe a bit too long, and that’s a spurious complaint, one easily lived with, like too much of a good thing. The salsa-lite numbers sink in effortlessly, even if the slower numbers take an extra listen or two. All he really needs now is a big hit to carry him over the top, and whether he or Nelly or someone else sings it doesn’t really matter. There are half a dozen songs on "AGUA DEL POZO" that could potentially chart out on the Latin top 40, so it’s just a matter of time. 'Si Pero No' is maybe the best bet since it’s already hit the iTunes download charts and you don’t exactly need an MA in Spanish Lit to understand the indecisions of life and love.

I don’t think we’ll be talking about the ‘Kamloops Sound’ any time soon, but Alex Cuba has got a busy career ahead of him. The question is, “Are we ready?” The next question is, “Could he do it in English without losing that saborrrrr….?” Stay tuned… but first, give it a listen, "AGUA DEL POZO," and prepare to get hooked. Now if only the US and that other Cuba would settle their differences…

"Agua Del Pozo" written & performed by Alex Cuba http://drop.io/alexcubaustrack2

(Author’s note- Pardon any mis-translations, but I can only translate what I can hear, and we ‘journalists’ don’t get lyrics sheets. Sometimes the CD beta-versions we get don’t even have song titles! So I do the best I can. Just last week I finally heard the correct lyrics to ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ for the first time from Paul Anka’s version- though I think maybe my own lyrics were better. Still I think lyrics are important, however tentative or partial. I for one don’t believe that the final solution to the world’s- and world music’s- ‘language problem’ is ‘English Only.’ So I persevere. Tamashek anyone?

On another note, I’m including a free song download for the first time. If it’s hassle-free, then I hope to do it more, artist willing. Considering that I frequently blog up from remote corners of the world, ‘hassle-free’ is not always the operative concept. Lastly, thanks to those of you who follow my blog, especially those of you who let me know one way or another. This blog’s for you. Enjoy.)

Les Triaboliques’ “rivermudtwilight”- Guitar String Theory 401 (frets optional)

Justin Adams is on something of a roll these days, at least as rolls go in the world music genre. In addition to his day job as Robert Plant’s main axman, he’s one of the masterminds behind Festival du Desert and the ‘Saharan blues’ group Tinariwen’s rise to prominence in the last few years, along with their many imitators. He also has a successful collaboration in process with Gambian griot Juldeh Camara, a collaboration that’s kept them at the top of the WMCE for most of the last four months. Now he’s got a new album out, “rivermudtwilight” by Les Triaboliques (The Triabolical Ones), in collaboration with two other world music veterans Ben Mandelson and Lou Edmonds, themselves also guitarists though manning a plethora of diverse, if similar, instruments for this project, notably the oud-like cumbus and fretless kabosy. Considering that he wrote all but two of the album’s songs, it’s notable that he’s willing to share the spotlight in what could be a timely Justin Adams solo effort. But the collaboration is a good one. They sound as if they’ve been playing together for years; maybe that’s because they have.

I guess it was only a matter of time before Western musicians with experience in world music bands would come home and form their own bands. Next, musicians from Chinese world music bands will join with Moroccan ones I suppose. If some people lament the golden age of the BAND as metaphysical entity, I welcome the current age of band as project, multiple collaborations on many levels. But that impermanence doesn’t have to imply carelessness or sloppy work. Indeed Les Triaboliques have anything but a ‘trevil-may-care’ (get it? Triabolical/trevil?) attitude, in what are some exquisitely crafted songs spanning the folk traditions from Africa to Andalusia to Aberdeen. With the possible exception of ‘Ledmo,’ something of an acid-grass instrumental doodle, the majority of songs are nothing if not intense, albeit not necessarily fast, songs.

The album’s opening song ‘Crossing the Stone Bridge’ sets the tone, and along with ‘Black Earth Boys’ may be the most accessible song on the album, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re the best. The ballads ‘Turns the Worm’ and ‘Shine a Light’ positively beg you to enter the dark side- if only for a moment- and the traditional ‘Jack o’ Diamonds’ could hold its own with ‘John Barleycorn’ as an example of a traditional song successfully gone pop. On the title song Adams indulges in a little ‘chicken pickin’ as the vocals intone ‘got to find a simple life’ in a compelling dirge-like lament. In fact all of Adams’ compositions show a surprising poetic sensibility that is rare in any form of popular music, not least of all ‘Crossing the Stone Bridge’ (‘we belong to the earth… everything is recorded’).

‘Afsaduni’ has a strong Arabic connection while ‘Gulaguajira- I the Dissolute Prisoner’ invokes an Afro-Cuban feel, albeit mixed with Russian lyrics. In what seems something of a British tradition, Les Triaboliques give ‘Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood’ a go… and nail it. I almost cried. That song has been re-defined as a medieval English ballad meandering through the centuries to re-emerge as conditions dictate. Last but not least ‘Phosphor Lane’ closes the album in something like an inverse Jimi Hendrix version of ‘Star Spangled Banner’, an anthemic closing ceremony.

Les Triaboliques re-invent the stringed instrument as a tool of the earth, its favorite son and favorite father, playing the blues while wiping away the sweat. Thus the blues returns to the dirt from which it came. The album evokes nothing so much as a bygone era, an era in which strings were plucked like so much wheat- or cotton- being harvested, whether in England or the High Atlas or the remote steppes of Asia. This is the Medieval Era of darkness, superstition… and magic, an era in which cultures that had long gone forth and divided began to reconnect with one another. Fortunately you don’t have to wait for these minstrels to wander to your town in order to hear the message. The hard work’s been done for you already. You can just click ‘Download.’ That’s “rivermudtwilight” by Les Triaboliques. Check it out.

2009 FESTIVAL SEASON NOT OVER YET

Coachella and Lollapalooza may take the limelight, but world music has some good festivals, too, and a couple of the best are yet to come. The Chicago World Music Festival features such notables as Blick Bassy, Hanggai, Los de Abajo, Cheb i Sabbah, and Markus James, as well as such up-and-comers as Watcha’ Clan, Fishtank Ensemble, Kusun Ensemble, and Momo. The festival will take place from September 18-24 in various locations around the city. Find more at www.worldmusicfestivalchicago.org.

Not to be outdone, !Globalquerque!, the Albuquerque world music festival, will take place Sept. 25-26 on three stages at the Hispanic Cultural Center. As of press time the scheduled bands include those same Blick Bassy from Cameroon and Kusun Ensemble from Ghana, as well as Novalima from Peru and Vasen from Sweden, and many others from the ethnic nooks and crannies of the US and world, including and especially New Mexico’s own Robert Mirabal of Taos Pueblo, Dine’/Kiowa Toppah & Yazzie, and Dwayne Ortega and the Young Guns. This is a pretty impressive lineup for a city that ranks only 59^th among the nation’s largest metropolitan areas. Always looking for new angles to get the music to the people, organizer Tom Frouge has even added a pre-show !Localquerque! in conjunction with the NM State Fair on Sept. 20. These are top-notch world music gatherings that would usually only happen in a major city with major funding, so good work, guys! Find details at www.globalquerque.com.

Back in LA, the Levitt Pavilion at MacArthur Park wraps things up this week with its traditional 1-2-3 punch of Korean Music-Central American Independence Day-Mexican Independence Day Celebrations on Sept. 11-12-13 respectively, ending another great season of free music for all us folks, down in LA’s inner city barrio area. Find out more at www.levittpavilionlosangeles.org. Since Levitt Pasadena and Grand Performances downtown have already finished their summer music schedules, that’ll pretty much wrap things up for LA this summer as things begin to move inside for the winter in what is arguably America’s most ethnic city. Those who knock LA as being celluloidal and characterless haven’t been to the barrio, or Little Ethiopia, or Little Armenia, or Koreatown or Japantown or Chinatown or Thai Town, all with their own celebrations and cultures and languages and immigrants, sometimes still more attached to the homeland than to America. This is notable, and perhaps even preferable, to the traditional ‘melting pot’ concept.

Are you interested in something a bit different? A celebration of Thai culture called Himmapan 2^nd World just may be coming to a venue near you. Created and organized by Todd ‘Tongdee’ Lavelle and supported by the Thai Foreign Ministry and Singha Beer, the shows feature twenty Thai and Thailand-based world music artists, and will appear in at least ten US cities this September, comprising the Northeast, Chicago, Pacific Northwest, California, and Texas. And if you’re thinking of some predictable ballet folklorico, well think again. Thailand has contemporary culture with the best of them, and many different regions and traditions all part of the mix. Long-haired pony-tailed Fulbright Scholar Todd is himself something of a local legend in Thailand, one of the few Westerners to fully break through the cultural barriers and become integrated into the highest levels of Thai society, giving speeches and hosting TV programs, even becoming a self-styled ‘cultural ambassador.’ He’s also a musician and promoter, organizing the annual ‘Rhythm of the Earth Fest’ in Bangkok every year, among others. It should be a good show; there should be more. Find details at http://himmapanworld.com/. Enjoy.